


Break My Heart

by PichiWrites (pichiwrites)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Child Neglect, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Mommy Issues, Professor Baekhyun, Social Anxiety, Teacher-Student Relationship, Therapist Sehun, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pichiwrites/pseuds/PichiWrites
Summary: I wanna feel the pain; I wanna see the lightY/N has been going to Oh Sehun for therapy for years. She's just started her first year of university, and hasn't made any friends yet-- not that she wants Sehun to know. After confusing the time of her therapy appointment, Y/N is forced to reschedule as Sehun's last appointment of the night. What happens when she runs into Sehun's ride in the waiting room while her therapist collects his bag for the night? And what the hell is this boy thinking when he grabs her hand, looks into her eyes, and asks her earnestly to break his heart?*Inspired by American pop-punk band Hey Violet's "Break My Heart"*





	1. I'm Curious to Live and Learn

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is Pichi/Mel. I'm super excited for this series; it's not my first fanfic by far, but it's my first EXO one, and I'm hype! Subscribe for updates, give kudos to stoke my ego, and comment to get good karma ;) Follow me on tumblr for EXO writings at pichiwrites.tumblr.com!

You were painting your nails a soft, peach-pink when your phone  _dinged_ the first time. You furrowed your brow as you put the nailbrush back in the jar and carefully reached over, examining the lockscreen with confusion. Nobody ever texted you. You were quiet, kept to yourself, and you were awkward, besides. Nobody at university so far had been all that interested in getting to know you, just as nobody in high school had been all that interested in doing anything other than making your life a living hell. So who...?

[Y/N, are you still coming to your appointment tonight?] - Sehun

_Oh_. That made sense. It was your therapist; he'd given you his number for emotional emergencies, and you texted on and off when you were having a crisis or just trying to set up a date for your next appointment. It wasn't unusual for him to text you for scheduling purposes, but the text left you slightly puzzled.

[Yes. Eight o clock, right?] - Y/N

You waited for his reply text with dismay. He'd never checked in to make sure you weren't a last-minute cancelation before, something else had to be the matter. Had you messed up the time?

Before you could pull up your calendar app, you got his reply.

[... It was supposed to be seven.] - Sehun

You panickedly checked the time and saw it was 7:32 PM.  _Shit_. And the building was fifteen minutes away... how had you confused the times? Weren't you supposed to be the genius scholarship student? Your phone  _dinged_ again.

[But it's alright. My nine o clock slot cancelled. Do you want to come in then?] - Sehun

Sehun was a godsend. You felt yourself breathe properly again as you responded.

[That's okay with me if it doesn't put you off any. I'm so so so sorry for forgetting!] - Y/N

It only took half a second for him to reply.

[Don't worry about it. Just be careful in that waiting room. You never know what kind of people are going to walk in late at night.] - Sehun

* * *

You got to your appointment early-- probably far earlier than necessary. But you'd already stood him up once that day, and you weren't the kind of person to do it twice. Actually, you weren't the kind of person to do it at all.

You weren't sure that you were adjusting to university all that well. It had been two weeks, and you hadn't made a single friend. It was embarrassing. You didn't even have a roommate as a safety net. What with the university being fond of tripling, due to a clerical error, you'd been left alone, one person in a two person room. You'd even talked to the front desk about it, asking if you could get a roommate assigned to you so you wouldn't have to be alone, but the nice lady behind the desk had informed you all roommates were locked as of August 1st, but she'd let you know if any transfer students came.

You put your hand on your chin as you waited, staring at the wall clock. It was 8:20. Definitely too early for you to be there; you were definitely overcompensating. With a sigh, you opened your bag and pulled out the homework for your favorite class. It wasn't due for another week, but you figured that since you had time, you might as well start. Not to mention that your scholarship depended on you maintaining your grades. You couldn't imagine the look on your parents faces if you showed up on their doorstep and told them you'd lost your scholarship. You shuddered.

You were immersed in your assignment when he walked in, so much so that you didn't even notice him. You only looked up when you heard the sound of the back of his chair thumping slightly against the wall as he sat down. He was looking at you. Quickly, you looked back down to your paper, but your eyes weren't seeing it quite right. You felt blush burn in your cheeks. He was  _cute_.

It was much harder to focus on your project after that. Ever so often, you felt his eyes on you, and you couldn't help but look up. Somehow, you met his dark eyes every time, which made you blush even more furiously and look back down at your paper. You thought you heard him chuckle at you one time, but you couldn't be sure.

The minutes-- already slow in passing, thanks to your eagerness to arrive early-- seemed even slower now. Why was he looking at you like that? Sure, there were no other people in the waiting room, but didn't he have better things to do to pass the time? Then again, you were doing homework...

"Y/N?"

You jumped to your feet, notebook in hand at the sound of Sehun calling your name. You cringed as your bag fell over from the sudden movement, knocking all of your pens and loose papers out.  _Shit_. Sehun's last appointment excused himself hastily and left the waiting room, probably hoping to avoid the social interaction. You couldn't blame him. Apologizing profusely, you knelt down to collect your things, your face practically aflame with blush. Sehun rushed over to help you, and you tried very hard not to look over at the other boy. You'd let him stare at you for forty minutes, but he couldn't help you pick up your things? What the hell?

You didn't acknowledge the boy's presence as you walked past him and into Sehun's office with your things. Yet you got the distinct feeling that he was looking at your ass.

As soon as Sehun had shut the door, you flung yourself onto the couch and asked, "Who  _was_ that?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry, you probably can't answer that," you realized. "Confidentiality and all that. Sorry, just forget I asked..." You plopped your bag on the ground at your feet, making sure to shove a few straggling pens back down so you didn't repeat the waiting room spill.

"He's actually a friend of mine," you were surprised to hear Sehun say. "Not a client. He's here to give me a ride after I finish up here with you."

Huh. "Why is he here so early?" You hadn't added it up yet.

Sehun seemed to consider this for the first time too. "I may have forgotten to tell him I refilled my nine o clock slot."

Great. That's probably why he'd been staring; you were the reason he was going to have to sit in an uncomfortable waiting room chair for an extra hour. You made a mental note to apologize after your appointment. It was bad enough your mistake had messed up Sehun's schedule. Now you were messing up his friends' as well?

Sehun seemed to see the worry on your face.

"Don't worry about Baekhyun," he said, waving his hand as he took a seat in his favorite armchair. "He could use some down time. It'll keep him out of trouble for an hour, at the very least."

You couldn't tell if he was joking.

"So, Y/N," he fixed his eyes on you and smiled warmly, but not without humor. "How are you?"

You figured it wouldn't be encouraging if you buried your face in the couch cushions and groaned, so you had to resist the urge. You picked at a loose thread on your tights, watching detachedly as a small hole began to form. "Not bad," you said, which you were pretty sure was true. You weren't miserable. You just, weren't anything.

"Define 'not bad.'" He never let you get away with anything.

You frowned, ripping the thread out in one sharp pull, magnifying the hole so it was almost obnoxiously large. "Well, I'm all unpacked up at university. I don't have a roommate, but I did ask the front desk for one, like you suggested. She said I might get one if any transfer students show up. And I'm doing well in all my classes; I really like my Ko--"

"Y/N." You looked up at him. "I didn't ask about your school, hun. I asked about  _you_. How are  _you_. Are you adjusting well to university?"

Crap. You couldn't lie to Sehun for shit. "Er, well." You felt your stomach ache. You hated to let him down like this. "I don't know if I would say I'm adjusting  _well_ , but I'm not adjusting  _poorly_ , you know?" He looked at you like he most certainly did  _not_ know, and he needed you to spell it out for him.  _Damn you_ , you thought, but deep down, you were thankful for his genuine concern. He had always cared about you beyond the role of therapist; that was what you loved about seeing him. He was so different from the other therapists you'd had, whose shits to give had always mysteriously run out when your appointment was over. Sehun was never like that. So you owed him the truth.

You deflated. "I haven't made any friends," you mumbled, looking at the carpet.

 He was silent for a moment. "Have you tried to join any clubs?" He suggested, just as he had the week before. "I know it may be uncomfortable at first, but it's an easy way to make friends."

"There's no 'easy' way to make friends when it comes to me," you said under your breath.

"You know what your problem is?" Sehun said, his voice light. You looked up again. "You horrible to yourself. You present yourself as a horrible person. And you're not, but nobody knows that, so you're stuck in here every Thursday."

Was there any way to stick your tongue out at your therapist and  _not_ seem immature? "I  _know_. And I run away from all of my problems. And I have gargantuan daddy and mommy issues. We've gone over this."

"Yes, we have." He gave you that piercing look. "But you haven't changed your behavior at all. So I'm going over it again."

You did groan then, leaning back into the comfortable couch and closing your eyes. Nobody else had to try this hard to make friends. Nobody else was as awkward as you.

"Social anxiety makes it hard to reach out and start friendships," Sehun said. "But it's nowhere near impossible to live a normal and happy life despite of that."

"I know, I just--"

"-- you just don't want to," he finished. You groaned again. "Because...?"

"Because my friends will end up deciding they don't like me anymore," you admitted, "just like they always do. I'm unlikeable. So it's better for everyone if I just keep to myself. No point fighting social anxiety if I'm not even fun to be around without it."

Sehun made a disapproving noise. "For the record, I don't think you're unlikeable."

You snorted. "Aw, thanks. My therapist is my only friend.  _Nice_." You sat up and gave him the side eye. You saw him shake his head.

"Listen, Y/N. I'm being entirely honest when I tell you this: it's much easier to make friends out there than it is to make friends with your therapist. You've already accomplished the latter. What does that tell you about the former?"

"Bullshit." You rolled your eyes. "You're being paid to like me. You're paid to be my friend."

At that, Sehun rose from his perch on his armchair and went over to his desk, opening the center drawer and shuffling around. What was he doing? For a quick moment, you had the thought that he was finally fed up with your shit and was about to shoot you. It was dispelled when he turned around, holding his certificate. He handed to you. "Can you read this for me?"

You tried to hand it back to him. "Sehun--"

"You can read, right?"

Of course you could read. You were in college. "I didn't mean--"

He took it from your hands and pretended to examine it for a solid minute. "Nowhere on here does it say that I am a friend-for-hire," he announced. "Nowhere on here does it say that I have to like my clients. And nowhere on here does it say that I have to tell my clients that they're likable if they're not."

You grumbled something under your breath about being overly-dramatic.

"I am a therapist. That's it. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't tell you I did. If you asked me, I would avoid the question or be honest with you. But I am telling you now under no pressure that I find you enjoyable, and if we weren't already engaged in a therapist-client relationship, I would definitely consider myself your friend." Even when he was being an ass, he was nice to you. Damn him, and damn that cute little smile he was giving you. Damn it all to hell.

"Fine," you grumbled. "I'll see if I can join a club. But when this all backfires, I'm blaming you."

He laughed as he sat back down. "You go right ahead."

* * *

"So, next Thursday at  _eight_?" Sehun asked, emphasizing the time as he walked with you back out into the waiting room. You flashed a look at him, trying not to look at his friend--Baekhyun, he'd said-- who seemed to have gotten better-looking in just the one hour you'd been in session.

"Eight is fine," you said. "I have my copay, too; for this week and last."

"Oh!" You could tell from the look on his face he'd forgotten to ask you for it, just like he had last week. It really did make you think that maybe he really did like you after all, if he forgot he was supposed to be paid for his services so often. "Right, let me go get my wallet and my phone to put the time in. Be right back. Do you mind if I lock up while I'm at it?" You shook your head no. "Right. I'll be right back."

And then he was gone, and you were alone in the waiting room with Baekhyun. 

You risked a glance over to the chair where he'd been sitting, but he was gone.

"What's your name?"

You almost jumped right out of your skin at the sound of his voice behind you. You whipped around, hand on your heart and the other clutching your purse strap for reassurance. "E-Excuse me?"

He was smirking at you.  _God damn he's even cuter up close... is it even legal to be that good-looking?_ "You're cute, you know. And smart. I saw your work." His eyes seemed to be glittering. You were at a loss for words. You felt yourself gaping, even knew that your mouth was slightly open, but you couldn't think of a single thing to say. Baekhyun cocked his head, his smirk deepening. "You don't know what to say, do you? Are you one of those girls who have no idea how pretty they are?"

Who  _was_ this guy? And had Sehun paid him to say these things? "I-- I-- um--" What the hell? Say something, say  _anything_ , Y/N--

His thin, long fingers were encircling your wrists all of the sudden, and you felt him pull you lightly towards him. You gasped, looking up at him (he wasn't even that tall, damn it, curse your stupid height!). His smirk was gone, and he was so intense out of nowhere, his deep eyes mesmerizing. He opened his mouth to say something, and try as you would later, you could never remember  _what_ you'd been expecting him to say. You did know, however, that it was most certainly not what came out.

"Break my heart," he said earnestly, his grip not uncomfortable at all but strong. You couldn't breathe.

And then Sehun returned. Baekhyun let go of you instantly, but it didn't seem to be quick enough. Sehun stalked over to the two of you, eyebrows raised. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked, in a tone that made it clear he hoped he very much wasn't.

"N-N-No," you stammered, stepping back from Baekhyun and looking everywhere but where he stood. _Break my heart_. "I, um. I'm gonna. Drive. I mean, I'm gonna go. I'mgonnaleavebye."

Without another incoherent sentence, you darted out of the room, forgetting to give Sehun your copay in your hurry to get away from his bizarre friend. Still, you heard his musical voice the entire way to your car, repeating it over and over, like a song: _break my heart, break my heart, break my heart_.

* * *

There were boxes outside of your dorm when you got there. A lot of boxes.  _What the--?_ You'd had just enough stress for one day. Cautiously, you poked your head in your open doorway, hearing the sound of someone moving stuff around. You edged your way into the dorm, and once you'd turned the corner past your kitchen, you saw him.

He had bright red hair and handsome, boyish looks. He was loading boxes into the one side of the dorm room, with the empty bed for the roommate you didn't have. Feeling awkward, you knocked on the doorframe to your own room.

He spun around, his face breaking out into a smile like sunshine. "Y/N Y/L/N?" He asked, looking excited. It took you a second to nod, like you weren't sure, exactly, what your name was. He kindly ignored it.

The boy extended his hand for you to shake. "I'm Park Chanyeol; I just transferred here from Korea," he said, and you finally understood what was happening.

"You're my new roommate?" You asked, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. On one hand, you hated social interaction. But on the other, he was adorable, and you really  _did_ need at least one friend (who wasn't your therapist).

Chanyeol nodded. "Sweet!" you said. You racked your brain for what Sehun would tell you to do in this situation. But you'd never gone over something like this! After a moment, you said, "Let me help you unpack."

And that was that. You spent several hours helping your new roommate unpack, which involved a lot of him thanking you (maybe thanking you too much, it was just moving boxes, after all) and him ordering the both of you a pizza (and insisting he paid). He was definitely good company. By no means was your social anxiety gone, but he was easier to talk to than most, and he was funny. He offered a promising friendship and a good distraction from the stressful events of your therapy session. It wasn't until you were laying in your bed that night that you had to think about Baekhyun again.

_Break my heart_. You fell asleep to the litany repeating in your brain, endlessly.


	2. It's Like a Test

Chanyeol had to wake you up the next day. With everything that had happened the night before, you'd forgotten to turn the ringer back on on your phone so you could hear your alarm. You felt his hands on your arms, shaking your body, and your eyes flew open. Not remembering that you had a roommate now-- and definitely not remembering it was this cute boy-- you screamed at the top of your lungs, throwing your arms in front of your face like he was going to attack it.

"Woah, woah, woah, it's me," he said defensively, quickly letting go of you and stepping back. "You weren't waking up," he explained nervously, "and class starts in half an hour. We have the same foreign literature class, remember?"

You cursed, swinging your legs out from under your fluffy blankets, raking your fingers hastily through your Y/H/L hair and wincing when they got caught in snarls. Chanyeol was watching you anxiously, like he wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing in waking you. He had his hands in his pockets-- he was already dressed-- and just stood in the middle of your dorm without a purpose. To assuage his concerns, you said, "thank you so much, Chanyeol, you're a life-saver" as you rushed over to your closet, grabbing the first dress you could find. You saw him smile brightly as you doubled back to the drawers under your bed. You yanked the top one open and fetched your undergarments and some tights. As you passed him for the third time, it finally occurred to you that he wasn't moving, and you stopped. "You okay?"

He seemed to blush. "Well, I was going to wait for you."

Oh my God. He might have been the nicest boy you'd ever met.

"You don't have to wait for me," you rushed to say. "Go eat breakfast-- I'll see you in class--" You dropped your tights as you fiddled with your hands.

"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly as you snatched your tights back up off the floor.

"Yeah-- yeah, I'm fine--" You stubbed your toe on the desk leg as you hurried to the bathroom to brush your teeth. It made a loud noise, and pain exploded in your foot. He stepped towards you in concern, and you emphasized, _"Fine!"_ in a very weird-sounding voice.

He looked like he disagreed, but he still said, "Well, okay then. See you in class, okay? Do you want me to tell the professor you're running late?"

"Oh please, no," you said, poking your head out of the bathroom, your toothbrush in hand. "I'll die of embarrassment. And he won't care." Your foreign literature professor was by far your least favorite teacher; he was just plain old  mean . "Just go, okay? I don't want you to be hungry."

"Alright. See you!" He waved at you as he grabbed his messenger bag from his desk chair and headed out of the bedroom. "See you!" you called out back, and then you heard him close the dormitory door.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck me," you muttered at yourself. What kind of dumbass forgot to turn her ringer on? You brushed your teeth in record time, daubed some perfume on, and put on some plain makeup. You threw on your clothes, realizing far too late that you'd picked the sexiest casual dress you owned-- a little black number with a cutout above your breasts. You'd only ever worn it on one date!

You hurried back out to your room and checked your phone for the time. Crap. You had fifteen minutes to get to class, and it was about a ten minute walk to the room.

_ Looks like I'm wearing the sexy dress,_  you thought mildly to yourself as you hoisted your bag up over your shoulder. You only had time to grab two granola bars and a water bottle from your kitchen before rushing out of the dorm, locking it, and starting on your way to class.

Chanyeol was already in the room when you got there. He waved at you, and you felt something warm in your stomach. Were you already friends? You hoped it was okay to join him as you headed over, dropping your bag on the desk next to him.

"You ate breakfast that quickly?" You asked, impressed. You started to unwrap your first granola, your stomach grumbling angrily at you.  _ No more oversleeping, I got it, shut up_ _,_ you thought at it.

He pointed at the styrofoam plastic cup sitting on the edge of his desk. "Tea," he said. He flashed you that same bright smile and said, "All I need is some caffeine, and I'm good to go."

You laughed lightly, but you were fighting a frown. He hadn't eaten because of you. Because he was waiting for you.

You were saved from having to formulate a response when his phone vibrated. You ate your granola bars silently as he unlocked it and peered at the screen. You didn't miss the way he rolled his eyes at whoever had text him. You weren't going to say anything, but then he scoffed, covering his mouth with his hand as he started to laugh.

"Y-You okay?" Damn it, you'd really tried not to stutter. You were really trying to make some friends so you didn't have to tell Sehun that you'd made no progress again next week.

He looked over at you, shaking his head. " _I'm_ fine. It's my idiot friend that's not," he said, laughter in his voice. At your perplexed look, he elaborated. "He met this girl for about two minutes last night, it seems like, and now he's deadset on finding her and 'wooing her.'" You burst out laughing at that too, recapping your water bottle so you didn't spill it.

"Did he really say, 'woo?'" You asked.

Chanyeol looked at you. "Unfortunately, yes," he said. "And I don't think he did it ironically, either." His phone vibrated again, and he instinctively looked down. " _No_ ," he said to his screen. "Ugh." He looked back up at you. "He's trying to get me to help him find her."

"Who  _does_ that?" You hoped you were doing this right. God. How did normal people have conversations all the time? You felt like you were gonna have a heart attack from maintaining this enjoyable one alone.

"I don't know," Chanyeol sighed. "He's never like this. He's more of a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of guy." You made a face. You hated guys like that. "Sorry," he said as he saw it.

You were going to wave it away, but you heard your professor enter the room, and instead you frantically gestured for Chanyeol to put his phone away. The guy would probably have a conniption if he saw it out, and Chanyeol didn't need that on his first day at university (no one did).

Chanyeol got his phone in his bag just in time. The professor appraised the class from behind his desk. Sure enough, his eyes landed on you, even though you hadn't done anything wrong. But he smiled at you then, like you had, and your stomach flip-flopped.

"Y/L/N!" He called sharply.

Quick fact: being singled out in class is, like, the Worst Thing to Ever Happen to someone with social anxiety. Almost up there with mosh pits and middle school dances.

"Y-Yes?" You sounded like a mouse. A very small, very frightened mouse (who had done nothing wrong!).

"I thought I made it clear that eating is prohibited during my class," the professor said, his lip curling as he stared pointedly at your granola bar wrappers.

You clenched your jaw. Mouse was gone. Enter, pissed-off lion. Not once had he ever said that, and it had never been mentioned in his course syllabus either-- you knew that, because you'd practically memorized the thing. And even if eating  _was_ prohibited-- which it  _wasn't_ \-- you weren't even eating. You'd finished the goddamn granola before class had even started!

He waited for your response, and you had to choke back several unprintable responses to his simpering glare.

"Sorry, professor," you forced out, crumpling up the wrappers and grabbing your water bottle for good measure before stuffing the lot in your bag. "It won't happen again, sir."

"Of course not," he said dismissively. He paused for a moment to prolong your Worst Thing to Ever Happen moment, and then he began the lecture. Face burning with anger, you retrieved your notebook and pencil from your bag and flipped open to a fresh page, copying down every key point he made with spite. He could hate you all he wanted. You were going to ace his class. Next to you, Chanyeol coughed, a few times in a row. When you looked over, he mouthed,  _Is he always like that?_

You had to swallow your giggle as you nodded in reply.

"Y/L/N!  _Kindly_ refrain from flirting during classtime!"

You groaned internally and got back to your immaculate notes. Some things were just not worth the fight.

* * *

 You didn't eat lunch alone for the first time since starting university, and having company was everything you had hoped it'd be and more. This, of course, was helped by the fact that your company was Chanyeol, and he was inexplicably the leader of your previously nonexistent defense squad.

"Is he allowed to be like that to girls?" He demanded furiously as you two worked at your meals in the courtyard.

You raised an eyebrow. "It's not just girls," you said. "It's everyone. He's an equal-opportunity asshole. And yeah, I don't think the school really cares. From what I've heard, he's been here for  _ages_ , and he's like, a veteran or something. The historical commission would start a riot if he got fired."

Chanyeol made a face. "Being a veteran doesn't mean you can be a dick," he said in a flat voice, and you couldn't help but laugh at the combination of his cute face, flat tone, and language. "Sorry," he said, thinking he'd offended you. "You know, service is required for all males in Korea. We all do it. And we all don't walk around like gigantic assholes."

"Is it really?" You'd never known. "So, you're from Korea?"

Chanyeol looked at you. "Look at me. Did you think I was German?"

You blushed at yourself, but still muttered, "You  _could_ be" before taking a sip of your drink. You thought for a second, and then said, "You know, your English is really good. I figured you'd just transferred from, like, out of town."

"Now, technically, yes," he grinned. "I did. Just, from... _really_ far out of town."

It went like that for the rest of your break, and you hated to go, even though you knew you'd see him later. But you didn't want to have to rush to both of your classes that day, and besides, the upcoming class was your favorite-- it was that class' project you'd been working diligently on in Sehun's waiting room. You told Chanyeol goodbye and agreed you'd meet in your dorm after class for homework and snacks. Then, you started off to your favorite class of the semester.

It wasn't a very far walk, but it felt farther than usual that day, like your body knew what was coming even though your mind didn't. You were aware, of course, that the teacher you'd had so far had been a stand-in, and that your actual professor was handling business abroad. You were in fact wondering when he would return when you walked into his room that day, picking your usual seat at the back of the class (less stares, better for social anxiety). You peered at the front of the room with mild interest, but there was no teacher there at all. Wondering if today might really be the day your professor came, you felt yourself become more and more anxious. What if he was like your lit professor? God, if you had to deal with two pretentious asshole teachers in one day, you'd snap, you really would.

_You have no evidence that he's a pretentious asshole_ , you reminded yourself as you unsheathed your project from your bag, examining the translations you'd done so far with confidence. Who knew that you'd love Korean so much? You remembered your parents scoffing when you selected it for your foreign language credit-- hoping to avoid too large of a class-- and how they'd 'seriously questioned' that you'd ever have a use for it.

You'd have to introduce them to Chanyeol sometime.

You were still giggling at the thought when your professor walked in, and you felt yourself buzz with excitement-- this wasn't your usual sub, it  _had_ to be the professor! God, you really hoped he liked you, or at least tolerated you...

"Take out what you've done for your projects so far," the professor said at the front of the room, with no preface. His words weren't necessarily friendly, but his voice was musical, pleasant. He was facing away from you all, setting up the projector screen so that it wouldn't roll up as he did his presentation. Man, he really did have a nice voice... and oddly familiar, too, where had you heard it before?

Once your classmates had stopped rustling through their bags to reveal their mediocre beginnings to their projects, he began to speak again, pulling his Macbook out of his bag and flipping it open, connecting it to the projector to transfer his screen to the big one. "As I'm sure you've gathered by now, I'm your official professor for the year. My name is Byun Baekhyun-- Byun being the family name, as I hope you would know from your studies so far. Family name comes first. That being said,  _please_ refrain from calling me Professor Baekhyun. It's..." He finally turned around. "Weird," he finished.

God. Damn.

This was not happening. This was  _not_ happening to you.

It was the same Baekhyun as Sehun's Baekhyun--  _"break my heart"_ Baekhyun.

You were going to be sick. You zeroed in on your notebook, staring blankly at the characters that had made perfect sense two minutes prior, but now just looked like chicken scratch.  _Well. It's been real, Korean language. I really enjoyed our fling. But it seems I have to drop this class... immediately..._

"Has anyone started their projects yet?"

By God-- on a  _normal_ day, there was no way in hell you would have singled yourself out like that by saying you had, so whatever force was compelling you to raise your hand amidst the shameful silence was definitely external.  _I've been possessed. Sehun will never believe it._

Baekhyun, not having recognized you yet, noticed your hand and nodded. "Awesome, Miss...?" Shitshitshitfuckshitfuck _fuck_. He was adjusting his position so he could see you all the way in the back. You were doomed.

You let out a defeated sigh and said, "Y/N Y/L/N, sir."

You saw the recognition in his eyes the second he saw you, and your stomach felt like it was trying to crawl its way out of your esophagus.

He grinned.

"Y/N," he said-- no, more like  _murmured_. Jesusfuck, you were going to die.  _Please, God, please. Fling my worthless body into the Sun._ "How far have you gone?" He asked you.

"I-- I, I started, really, only," you mumbled, looking at your notes. "Just a handful of pages, really. And they might not even be right."

"I'm sure they're right," he said in response. After a wink so subtle you might have imagined it, he went right back to his lecture, as if he didn't recognize you after all, as if he'd never met you before. As if you'd imagined the whole thing.

* * *

There was no possible way you'd imagined the whole thing. Sure, Baekhyun (you were _not_ going to think of him as Professor Byun) hadn't explicitly said, "Hey, I remember flirting with you in Sehun's office", but you knew he knew it was you. It had been a week since he'd returned, and he'd just kept  _smirking_ at you and calling on you incessantly-- even when you didn't know the answer, damn it.

You'd taken to glaring at him all lecture-long, social anxiety be damned. It had become a sort of class-wide joke, how much you seemed to hate Baekhyun-- so much so that when he told you to stay behind after your Thursday class, you heard kids placing bets on who'd survive the encounter as they walked out the door.

You sighed. If  _those_ were the candidates, did you really want to make friends in the first place?

Baekhyun didn't bother to close the door after the last of your classmates left. That, at least, reassured you that he wasn't going to do anything weird. It occurred to you, as you walked to his desk, that you should have been worried about something like that. And that you should be anxious.

But you weren't anxious. You were just irritated.

His eyes appraised you, examining your face up close. Just when you were starting to think he wasn't going to say anything, he spoke. "Do you remember what I asked of you?" He questioned, his handsome eyes glittering with mischief.

_Break my heart_. Had he expected you to forget? Should you lie?

You didn't. "Yes," you said. "But... sorry, what the fuck?" You blushed at your own language. Weird and annoying as he may be, he  _was_ your professor, after all, and you  _were_ a scholarship student.

He didn't seem to mind your cursing. "Apparently I need to have my heart broken," he said simply, looking at you. He looked curious. (And infuriatingly good-looking.)

_What does that even mean?_ "That's fantastic?" What were you supposed to say? Had he legitimately been asking you to break his heart?

"You're not unattractive," Baekhyun continued.  _What the--_ "And you know Sehun. So you're ideal."

Did this guy think that being beyond-attractive meant he could say whatever he wanted?  _Ugh._ "Rude. You're rude, you know that? And I'm not helping you," you said in disgust. You shook your head, hiking your bag-strap up on your shoulder and turned to go.

But you never got to walk away.

"You have to," he said in that musical voice. His tone wasn't hostile, or threatening. But something in it let you know that you needed to turn back and look at him.

"And why is that," you said through clenched teeth. God, all you wanted was a normal life-- some friends, and _no creepy professors_. Was that too much to ask for?

"Because." He shrugged, seemingly carefree. "Otherwise, I'll tell everyone you tried to seduce your professor."

Your heart spluttered, and you found yourself gaping at him. Your first thought was that no one would believe him-- and your second was that, no, they definitely would. He could play it almost any angle. Scholarship student, desperate for good grades in a challenging class. Social outcast, vying for validation from her teacher. Lonely girl, trying to get it on with her sexy professor... any one was believable. And it was his word over yours, even if you tried it conversely; even if you tried to tell a supervisor about this event itself before he could talk.  _Fuck fuck fuck_. He was a professor, and you were a student who wasn't even paying to be here. Maybe if you had friends, you could have counted on them to back you up, but as it stood, all you had was Chanyeol. And he was a transfer student, who you'd only known for a week. His credibility was lacking.

"You wouldn't," you heard yourself saying.

He raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"

You were shaking your head, your heart pounding now, your arms cold and your legs prickling. "Sehun wouldn't let you get away with that," you said desperately. They were friends, sure, but Sehun was a good guy. And you were friends with him too, right? At least he'd said so...

Baekhyun smirked and leaned in, causing you to flinch back, even though there was a desk between you. "He's the one who told me I needed to have my heart broken in the first place."

You closed your eyes. "Can't you pick someone else?  _Anyone_ else? Someone who's not..."  _Me?_ "your student?"

"I  _could_ ," he admitted. His eyes flashed. "But I want  _you_."

"But I-- what if I already have a boyfriend?" You tried.

"You don't," he said swiftly. "No friends either, it seems."

You crossed your arms. "And what makes you think that?" There was no way Sehun would have told him that. Not only was it a betrayal; it was illegal.

"Teachers talk, Y/N," he said, rolling his eyes. "And we're not blind, you know. You only ever hang out with your roommate. And you're definitely not dating  _him_." You didn't think that was quite fair to Chanyeol, as he was very attractive, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm not-- do you want me to date you? And then  _dump_ you?" How was this your life?

Baekhyun waved his hand dismissively. "Something of the sort," he said, "I don't know. Sehun just said I needed my heart broken. Apparently, I'm 'selfish and over-confident' and I ought to be humbled."

No kidding.

You stepped back from his desk a bit. "You wouldn't really tell everyone I tried to seduce you," you said, eyes narrow.

"I think you greatly overestimate my compassion," he said. Your stomach sank. "It's not like you'll get in trouble for it. Just some shame and all that. But from the look on your face, it's enough."

What an asshole! Of course it was enough. If he said that stuff about you, it would get back to your parents, and-- you almost screamed-- they would kill you.

_They'd kill me, they'd kill me, they'd kill me._ They wouldn't believe you; they never did.  _Oh god oh god._

You took three gasping breaths. "You can't tell anyone," you said seriously, your voice quivering. "My parents'll-- I'll literally die. And my social life--"

"I thought we already established you didn't have a social life."

"Shut  _up_ ," you snapped. He looked like a kicked puppy. You were going to be sick. "Shut up, just shut up. I'll do what you want. Not that that's a surprise to you, is it? You've got it all worked out. Guys who look like you never get told 'no', do they?" You were furious. You latched onto your bag with a grip tighter than a vice, and glared at him. His eyes were fixed on you, mild, his handsome face open. You opened your mouth to yell some more, but you could think of nothing else to say.

Without another word, you spun on your heel and whirled out of the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest, throbbing harder than the indignant rage in your veins.

_Break my heart._


	3. See How Much I Can Take

Sehun was staring at you.

Well. Staring might not be the best word. What he was doing had much more intention than that; he was lasering into you, eyes sharp and cutting into your chest. Your soul. Whatever.

"It doesn't matter," you muttered, turning your head away, knowing he would call you out on it.

But he didn't, really. He didn't say, "Clearly, it does!" like you'd thought, or even snort.

He got mad.

"Y/N." His voice was so rough that your gaze jerked back to him. Your stomach lurched. He was simmering. "I want you to understand me when I say this: it matters. The second you say it doesn't is the second you give your power away."

You felt your eyes started to water. Cringing because you hated crying, you brought a hand to your face and wiped at your tears as you said, "They told me it was my fault I have no friends," finally.

Sehun was silent.

"That I'm a miserable bitch, and no wonder no one likes me, because I'm so challenging to be around." You dropped your hands in your lap and looked down at them. Dejectedly, you shrugged. "I guess they're right."

"They are not." Sehun's voice was no longer rough, but it was ten times more forceful. "Y/N, you are a lovely person. I would never lie to you and tell you that I enjoy your company if I didn't. Your parents are the miserable ones, understand? And there is never a good enough reason to justify them speaking to you like that. Never. Never."

 That's not what you'd been told your whole childhood. You shook your head. "You don't understand. They're really good people. It's not like--"

"Y/N." Sehun stared you down, bringing you to silence almost immediately, interlacing his fingers and letting out a little breath. His eyes were boring into you with something like empathy when he said, "It's abuse."

You just stared. Stared. And yes, that was the word for it, there was nothing else-- just blank, heart-beating, blood-pulsing staring.

_... what?_

It wasn't even necessarily that the thought had never occurred to you before.Your parents had always been like this, always yelled and fought and hurt you on purpose. But they never raised a hand at you, so what could anyone do? That meant it wasn't abuse... right?

"I don't..." you said weakly, and Sehun waited for you to finish a sentence you hadn't actually planned to complete. You sighed. You were just so tired.

"I'm going to give you some articles to read," he said quietly after a moment. "They give the basics on emotional and psychological abuse, and neglect. I want you to read through them this week in your own time, and I want you to highlight everything that seems familiar."

_Everything?_

He must have seen the look on your face. "Everything," he repeated firmly. You groaned and slouched back into his couch, wishing, despite everything, that you could stay and talk to him for a little while longer. But your session was almost over, and you had promised Chanyeol you'd be back right after so you could eat dinner together...

"Damn it." Without you noticing, Sehun had risen, and had apparently been searching through his desk. "I don't have any printed."

You perked up. "Does this mean I won't have to--?"

He laughed. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I just am going to have to ask you to stay after a bit so I can photocopy some more for you. Do you think you could? It should only be a few minutes."

You hesitated. Sehun saw, and you knew you should explain so you didn't hurt his feelings, but if you told him you'd promised Chanyeol you'd meet up, he'd make another twenty minute monologue about how proud he was that you'd finally made a friend. "I don't mind," you said after a moment, and then smiled meekly at him.

He nodded, and then a look passed over his face. "Crap. Remember my friend that you met last time?"

 _Double_ crap. So far, you'd managed to keep yourself from telling Sehun about Baekhyun. Despite what Baekhyun had said, you knew Sehun, and you knew that he'd never let Baekhyun get away with using you like this. But... something was telling you to keep your mouth shut anyway, and maybe it was anxiety (probably it was anxiety), but you'd heard about woman's intuition one too many times to ignore such a strong feeling. What if your body knew something you didn’t?

You pretended to strain your memory. "Uh... yes. I do."  _Break my heart._

"Well, he's driving me again today because my car is broken.  _Again_. And he really is a great guy, but when it comes to women..." He looked like he wasn't sure how much would be appropriate to share. Little did he know he didn't need to share anything. You were pretty sure you knew how Baekhyun was, not that you could tell your therapist that. "He's a little... flirtatious. He's probably in the waiting room again. Will you be okay to sit out there if I lock up and go make some copies?"

_God damn-- god friggin--_

Well, now you were screwed. If you said 'no', he'd not only be disappointed in you for avoiding facing social situations, but he might even get suspicious. And Christ, that feeling really didn't want Sehun to know about your thing with Baekhyun...

You shrugged, as nonchalant as you could force yourself to be. "No problem."

Sehun seemed to ease up almost instantly. "Great," he said, and before reaching for his bag and keys, he added, lowly, "I mean, he'd never lay his hands on a girl without her asking first, but, he's the kind of guy that knows he's good-looking. He's..."

"A jackass?" You supplied, maybe a little too quickly.

But Sehun just laughed. "Exactly. But he's my friend, so try not to kill him if he comes on to you," he requested, and you promised you would.  _Oh, he has no fucking idea..._

* * *

Sehun had only been out of the room for 0.2 seconds before Baekhyun smirked and said to you, in that bastard sweet voice, "Hello, Y/L/N."

You crossed your arms. "You know, if you're going to threaten and blackmail me, the least you can do is use my first name," you snapped. You hated the way he said your last name, like it was something dirty.

He grinned again, but said nothing on it. Instead, he asked, "How long have you been seeing Sehun?"

You opened your mouth and closed it again. You'd been prepared to fire off a smartass retort to whatever response you'd expected him to give about your name. But there he was, changing the topic, and what the hell? Who the hell asks those kinds of questions?

You clenched your fist. "A year," you said.

Who the hell  _answers_ those kind of questions?! You tried to justify your madness by insisting to yourself that he'd leave you alone if you answered his question.

But he only asked more. "Are you seeing him for any particular reason?"

Jesus Christ. He was asking these questions casually. It was like he was _trying_ to make you uncomfortable— but—no, those eyes were looking at you with amusement and interest, not malice. He really wasn’t trying to make you uneasy. He was just… curious.

Well, whether or not he meant to make you uncomfortable, he had. And he’d blackmailed you into… whatever he’d blackmailed you into. So you weren’t pulling any punches.

“I tried to kill myself,” you said, soberly.

He didn’t even flinch. The boy blinked, just _blinked_. You assumed he would have just moved on to the next question, but Sehun walked in, carrying a small stack of papers.

You didn’t move, and neither did Baekhyun. Sehun noticed the tension in the room right away.

“Baek. Can you for maybe once in your life _not_ hit on every girl within a twenty mile radius?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t hitting on her,” he said, and, well, it was technically true. So when Sehun looked to you for confirmation, you nodded. “We were just talking. Did you know she’s a student up at the university?”

Sehun stiffened and glared at his friend. You almost wanted to laugh. You could see him thinking it through, worrying that his friend would seek you out on campus and chat you up when Sehun wasn’t around to intervene.

Really, _honestly_ , if he only knew…

“Hey, Sehun?” You rose to your feet, bag on your shoulder (with your Korean homework inside, as a matter of fact). “Can I have those papers? I’ve got to get home soon. I actually promised my roommate we’d have dinner together.”

He smiled at you. “That’s great!” He came over, and lowered his voice as he handed the papers to you. “Call me if these are too much. And you can always stop and wait to finish them until in-session.”

You nodded. “Thanks, Sehun,” you said, and you held the papers tight in your fist as you got the hell out of dodge.

* * *

Chanyeol was understanding. You felt horrible.

“Don’t!” He replied when you told him you felt bad about holding him up. “It was therapy! Jesus, who would be mad at you for running overtime at _therapy_?”

You thought of your parents. And then tried to make the thought disappear, as it related directly to the stack of papers you’d shoved under your mattress the second you’d gotten home. The papers you were pretty sure you never wanted to read.

The two of you were sitting on your bed, side by side, staring at the TV you’d installed on the other wall the first week you’d been here. On it, some soap opera was playing, and some girl was screaming about how her sister had slept with her husband, who was also a mafia leader, but secretly gay… or something. You were far too absorbed in your own soap of a life to pay attention to the charmingly dramatic Spanish people on screen.

“Y/N… Y/N… wake upppp.”

You shook your head. “Sorry.” Maybe you should just shred the papers Sehun had given you. Pretend your roommate was feral. _Chanyeol ate my homework._ Whoopsie? The boy in question was looking at you with cute concern, his fried chicken forgotten on his paper plate below. “Sorry, I just… can I talk to you?”

His face wrinkled with worry. “Um, yes? We’re friends, right?” You nodded, again, too quickly. He didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah. You can talk to me whenever you want. Are you okay?”

You made a face. “Okay, so here’s the thing…”

* * *

You were late to Baekhyun’s class. _You were late to Baekhyun’s class._ God, you were just _asking_ for trouble at this point, holy hell, what was wrong with you? You were full-out sprinting across campus, your lunch cradled in your arms like a baby (what, like you were going to throw it away?). Your skirt kept flipping up, and you kept cursing, and potato chips kept falling, and you were sure you were a sight to see for any goddamn passerby or other idiot students who weren’t in class yet.

You had no idea how you’d survived without Chanyeol. You’d been without him today at lunch, because you’d put off your Korean homework, and you’d needed to get it done. So, you’d gone to the library instead—alone. And wouldn’t you just know it, you’d fallen asleep atop your translation! So not only were you late ( _to Baekhyun’s class_ ) but you also had not finished his damn homework!

You tried to enter the classroom as quietly as you could, hoping and praying that _maybe_ he wouldn’t notice or even that he had a replacement. But lo and behold, he was there, and even better: when you opened the door, your coffee cup fell right out of your hand, andburning hot coffee splashed up your legs.

And you yelped.

Everyone in the class turned around to stare at you—nightmare!!!—as you frantically tried to wipe the burning coffee off of your legs with your sleeve. Once the burning was gone, your stomach dropped, and you looked up to meet Baekhyun’s eyes.

He was grinning at you. Smirking again, in that cheeky way that made it look like he was undressing you with his mind.

It was a good thing, for him, that everyone was looking at you, then.

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Miss Y/L/N.” You could hear the entire class inhale, waiting for his verdict, for him to tear into the one student who so clearly hated him. “Please take a seat.”

And the vultures withered. Assholes, you thought, as you picked up your coffee cup and made your way to your seat. You sat and ignored their contemptuous stares, taking out your homework and being glad that Baekhyun was one of those professors that didn’t check homework. _If you want to fail, go ahead and fail,_ he’d said on his first day as he’d shed his jacket (the words had been muffled by the sounds of girls swooning).

But of course not doing one assignment didn’t mean you wanted to fail. At least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself as you tried to discreetly complete your work. Your chest was tight as you failed in your fight against your parents voices in your head, telling you you were lazy, and you didn’t deserve to go to college on their money…

“Y/L/N. Please stay after class.”

 _What?_ Everyone was leaving the room already. This was bullshit; you weren’t _that_ late! Or had you really been so anxious that so much time had passed without you noticing? Either way, you let out a breath of defeat and nodded at Baekhyun, hoping he just wanted to talk to you about professor things, and knowing that would not be the case.

Everyone cleared out this time with snickers, and most of them walked around the coffee spill very purposefully, as if to extentuate it. _God. Damn. Assholes._

“Did you burn yourself?”

“Holy _shit!”_ you exclaimed, and you jumped so hard you almost fell out of your chair. He was right by you, peering down with curious eyes. You glared up at him. “No, I’m fine,” you said, and you rubbed your thigh at the place where it’d hurt the worst.

“Oh,” he said. Then— “Well, in _that_ case—”

He leaned down, and you were hit by how good he smelled and also surprised by how intimidating he could be with such a cute face. “Why were you late for my class? And,” he saw the half-finished paper on your desk, “why haven’t you done my homework?”

Your heart was pounding. You’d already been anxious, and he was far too close. And he was going to scold you, oh my God, you _were_ lazy—

“I—”

He held up a hand to stop your explanation and straightened up, his eyes flashing. _Right, no excuses._

“I’m sor—”

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” He asked curiously. “It was just a question. You know I don’t care about stuff like that.”

You were shaking. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t yelled, that he’d been far more reasonable than anyone had with you in the past. He’d set you off, and now…

“Y/N.” You jolted. It was the first time he’d ever called you by your name. You looked up at him, embarrassed by the half-formed anxious tears in your eyes. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart spluttered. “Wh-what?”

He tilted his head, leaning back on a desk without a care in the world. That indecent smirk played at his lips again. “Have you forgotten _again_?”

 _Break my heart._ Of fucking course not. But it was one thing to be forced into the arrangement, it was another thing to see it through. The way he was looking at you, what if he touched you—

He snorted. “I thought I told you I’m not going to touch you without permission.” Jesus, you were way too readable lately. “I’m asking for dinner, not sex. Understand?”

You were bright pink. So now he thought you were slow. Or maybe he always had, and that’s why he’d singled you out. Yeah, that was probably it…

“I understand,” you muttered, “but—” Your eyes darted towards the open classroom door. You leaned in your seat a bit to half-whisper, “Isn’t that a little risky?”

He shook his head with that lions’ smile on his lips. “Not at all,” he said.

“But—” If someone, _anyone,_ saw the two of you, the both of you were done for. And not that you entirely cared about him, but you would be _dead_. Your parents would _kill you._

“Listen. Y/N. I will not be taking you any place where your peers will be going.” You felt your cheeks redden. Did anything in the world bother him at all? And why was it so easy for him to bother _you_? “And as for the school. Do you know who paid for this building? And the next?”

You felt trepidation in your gut. Still, you shook your head.

“Let me just say that unless I were to film us having sex with one another and post it on the internet, there’s really nothing the school will do.”

Your stomach did a funny flip. That was two times he’d mentioned sex in one conversation. And, hell yeah, compared to guys your age, that was low, but…

“Y/N, I wouldn’t set you up for failure,” he said. You looked at him, your eyes hard. “I gave you an objective, and getting us split up before you can do any damage is extremely counterproductive. So take that as a comfort. I’m counting on you.”

You sighed. That wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

“You’re mad,” you said finally. “Absolutely mad. But what else can I say? Fine.”

He grinned. “Meet me in the Courtyard at nine tonight.”

You were pretty sure your eyes almost bugged. _“Nine?”_

He nodded, that grin still on his face. “Gives you plenty of time to finish your assignent,” he said.

That was _it._ Your cheeks on fire with blush, you hoisted your bag up and went for the door. Just as you were passing through it, you heard him call.

“And Y/N?” Clenching your teeth, you turned around to see him lounging on that desk, looking far too handsome and deceptively sweet. “Dress nice.”

_Bastard._


	4. Tell Me That It Wasn't Real

"Y/N?"

You kept your eyes closed. Maybe if he thought you were sleeping, he'd leave you to die.

"Y/N."

Maybe you should feign a snore.

"Y/N, you need to get ready for your date."

God damn it. Why had you wanted a roommate, again?

With a groan, you sat up from where you'd been trying-- and failing-- to sleep on your tiny bed. Chanyeol was looking at you with a mix of concern and amusement. "Are you sure you're up for this date tonight? You don't look so good..."

Well, that was flattering.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed, rubbing at your eyes in hopes of brightening them. "I'm fine, I just..." How much could you really tell Chanyeol, aside from that you had a date? "I just don't want to go," you admitted.

Understatement of the year.

He didn't seem to understand. "If you don't want to go--" he helped you stand up, as you'd been clutching at your bed dizzly-- "then why are you going? And you never told me who you're going out with. Who is it again?"

You had to keep yourself from bursting out into hysteric laughter.  _Oh, nobody, just my Korean professor, no big deal._ You shook your head. "I don't want to talk about it," you said darkly, and he took the hint.

"Do you want help getting ready?" He asked. You eyed him and saw that his textbooks and laptop were open and waiting on his bed.

"Don't you have work to do?" you asked. 

He waved it away. "Your date is more important. Besides, it's Friday."

Right. That.

"You can help if you want," you said. You could probably use an extra set of eyes when picking out an outfit. You really didn't want to look sloppy-- you didn't need to embarrass yourself even more than you'd already been embarrassed, thanks-- but you also didn't want to look like you were actually eager to be there. And, limited as your fashion sensibility was, you had no idea how to convey that with your dwindling supply of date-worthy clothes. "Can you help me pick out something to wear?"

Chanyeol nodded. As you led him to your closet, you checked your phone for the time. Eight o clock.  _Shit, fuck, shit._ Well, maybe if you were late, he'd decide he didn't like your attitude and leave you alone. Maybe.

Probably not.

You and Chanyeol sorted hurriedly through your closet for a few minutes before you gave up, shaking your head and stepping away. "I'll just wear a dress or something," you announced, "don't worry about it. I have to go do my hair and makeup. Seriously, just do your work; I'm a lost cause."

Chanyeol didn't say anything from where he was in your closet, and you figured that meant 'okay.' You rushed to the bathroom and did your makeup as lightly as you could, because you really didn't want him to think you were trying for him. This was for  _you_ , damn it. You brushed your hair so fast it hurt, but you had no time to wince, really. You sprayed it with product and styled it the best you could before bursting back out into your room, where you found Chanyeol holding a dress you'd shoved in your closet while unpacking and had forgotten about almost immediately after.

"No," you said automatically. It was too small. Too tight. Too... black.

Chanyeol looked confused. "But it's a date, right?" He clearly wasn't getting that you really didn't want to go, was he? "You'd look great in this. Don't you want to...?"

"Not particularly," you grumbled, but it was getting later and later, so you snatched it from him with a grateful mutter and then returned to the bathroom so you could change. Once it was on, you refused to look at yourself in the mirror. You knew if you looked, you'd hate the outfit even more, and then you'd change clothes a million times, and your hair would be a mess again, and you'd get makeup all over yourself. It'd happened before.

You plodded out of the bathroom again and searched for your flats. "Have you seen my black flats?" You asked him, glancing over at where he sat, finally on his bed and reviewing his homework. He shook his head and gave you a once over. "No. But you should wear heels."

"I'm not wearing heels," you said automatically. That just screamed 'fuck me' and that was the last message you wanted to convey.

You bent over, searching under your bed for the shoes that had completely, utterly vanished. You were groping around in the dark when your hand fell on a stack of papers. Your brow furrowing, you pulled it out, and instantly felt your stomach drop. It was the stack of papers Sehun had given you about abusive parents.

You'd shoved them under there almost immediately after you'd gotten home the night before, resentful and petulant, like a child. You didn't want to look at them, because you were terrified they'd tell you something you could never unknow.

But still, you clutched them in your hand, unable to let go.  _I should just burn them,_ you thought wildly, forgetting your date for a hot second as you contemplated starting a bonfire with your mental health paperwork.

_No wonder I have to see a therapist once a week._

Angry, you threw the papers on your bed and went back to searching for the flats. You could destroy them later. You liked Sehun a lot, but you weren't going to do this. You weren't going to do it, and that was final. Your parents were good people with a lot of problems. Just because they did certain things or said certain things, that didn't mean...

You found your flats and grunted triumphantly. You put them on as fast as you could and checked your phone. Eight-twenty.

Damn it. So now, you were early? The Courtyard was only a five minute walk, and you were  _not_ showing up early. That gave off all kinds of vibes you needed to avoid. 

Before you could consider the best way to waste thirty minutes, you got a text from your parents.

[Remember. You should be studying, every night of the week. Dad says to buckle down in Korean. The college won't let us see your grades, but we think you might be failing, with how little you tell us about that class.]

Charming. That was from your mom.

[Y/N, you know you're not allowed to go on dates, right? And no parties.]

And that was your dad. Quickly, you texted back, [Of course, dad. Love you. Gotta get back to studying.] You went to reply to your mother, but for some reason, tears were watering in your eyes. Your hand shaking, you threw your phone on your bed. You were slipping; you should have thought ahead like you were only doing now and realized that you couldn't take your phone with you on your date. Your parents tracked you and got alerts on where you went and when. They'd see wherever you went with Baekhyun, and God, you had no idea how you'd deflect those questions, especially when you'd just told your father you were studying.

You wiped at your eyes with haste, blinking around to clear them. Your eyes, as if they had a mind of their own, landed on the front page of the packet Sehun had given you, on the bullet-pointed list detailing the behaviors of abusers.

Your vision focused on the words:  _controls actions._

* * *

You were pretty sure your eyes were still puffy by the time you got to the Courtyard, but you doubted Baekhyun knew your face well enough to notice. You stood, unwilling to sit down in so tight a dress, and waited for him to arrive for a short while. To your surprise, he wasn't overly late, and he didn't stand you up. You'd been half-expecting that ego to translate into "fashionable" tardiness or practical jokes. But no, he strolled into the Courtyard some five minutes after you'd arrived, and when he saw you, you felt more than saw his eyes trace over your form.

"You look nice," he murmured as he came over to your side. When his eyes reached your face, you saw him visibly notice your puffy eyes. His expression changed, to something indescribable, but he didn't say much on it. He only muttered, "Me?" and then seemed a bit less worked up when you shook your head no, you weren't crying over him.

"Let's just go," you said, and it was then that you blinked away your remaining tears and took a good look at him.

Your breath caught.  _Fuck my life._ He looked gorgeous, goddamn  _gorgeous,_ how was that fair? You bit your lip as you looked quickly away from him, the image of him pressed in your eyelids, flashing every time you blinked. He looked so  _good._

Why the hell was he messing around with you?

You must have been making an even worse face, because Baekhyun's face almost seemed concerned for a moment, and he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" in a low voice.

With your professor? Who was currently blackmailing you into dating him? No fucking thank you.

You shook your head. "Let's just go," you muttered, and to your surprise, he took you by the arm, confidently, leading you out of the garden and through the common area, where students convened to eat, drink, and shamelessly flirt. You'd only been once (too many people for you), but you knew it must be crowded all hours of the day. "Wait!" You grabbed onto his arm to halt him, letting go instantly when you realized how firm his arm muscles were and that you were squeezing them. You looked up at him with nervous eyes. "Everyone's going to see us."

One corner of his mouth quirked up. "And you care because...?" He gave you a very pointed once over. "If I looked like that, I'd want to show myself off, you know."

You were pretty sure you had heart palpitations. You struggled to keep your jaw from dropping as you looked away, your cheeks red. "Don't," was all you said on the matter. "And I don't want people to see me... with you."

You looked over at him to see if he was offended, but he almost looked pensive. Then, he laughed. "I guess you wouldn't, would you? That's the whole hold I have over you." He smiled, and you hated the damn sight, because he really looked so innocent and sweet. It was deceptive. Not to mention fucking annoying. "Would you rather we go the other way? It's the cultural center's walkway. No one ever goes there."

You nodded. You weren't really thinking, at the time, that you were agreeing to go somewhere dark and secluded with a man you didn't know, a man who clearly didn't take 'no' for an answer. The two of you turned and set off in the other direction, the silence a little tense, but his posture and body language entirely at ease.

You glanced surreptitiously over at him. What the hell went on in his head? You'd never gotten a clear answer on why he was so determined to have his heart broken in the first place, and, more importantly, why he thought you'd be the one to do it.

During one of your not-so-indiscreet glances, he looked over and caught you, smirking as he led you down the cultural center's walkway, towards God knew where. You blushed again and started to stammer an apology, but he cut you off.

"I wasn't flattering you, you know," he said, and you couldn't detect a trace of mockery in his voice. "I mean it. You don't show yourself off nearly enough."

You tried to ignore the way your gut flipped. He was hitting on you. Of course he was, what else would he be doing? You still felt your palms getting sweaty, and you were glad that he wasn't trying to hold your hand. 

"I have really bad social anxiety," you tried to explain.

He stopped walking and looked over at you, critically. After a moment, he nodded. "Makes sense," he said, and he resumed his pace. "I just thought you were shy." You didn't say anything. "So is that why you go see Sehun?"

Your stomach jolted at the reminder of his connection to Sehun. The whole thing was just too  _weird._ Your therapist's friend was blackmailing you into dating him. What kind of bullshit was that?

"Sort of," you said, and you didn't offer any further explanation.

But he didn't drop the subject. "There's more?"

You thought of the stack of papers strewn across your bed, and you shot him a look. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. There's more."

He was silent for a moment, and the two you of you were just walking. You began thinking about how nice the late-summer air felt on your skin, and how, was it really that bad, to be out at night with such a handsome man? Was it really terribly awful, to wear a pretty dress and get courted by the most beautiful person you'd ever seen in your life?

You looked over at him again, if only to see his expression. He seemed to be contemplating.

"Y/N, if you ever need help, or someone to talk to--"

You cut him off. " _Don't_ ," you said forcefully, and you purposefully looked away from him. "I don't need your pity. Or your help. I have Sehun."

"I don't pity you, Y/N. I don't think it's possible to pity someone who's willing to bite your head off at first chance." Baekhyun's voice was light, but you were flooded with a feeling of guilt as the two of you neared the teacher's parking lot, and you realized he was taking you to his car.

You really were quite mean to him. "Sorry," you muttered, and you didn't say anything else, because cute or not, he deserved to get put in his place a little bit.

It was only later, as you lie in bed that night, that you realized your thinking was exactly the same as the thinking that'd gotten you into this mess in the first place.

_Break my heart._

* * *

_His hands were in your hair and his mouth on yours, and only the fabric of your panties kept you from being completely bare with him._

_You gasped against his mouth, groaning as his hands dipped past the silken fabric, finding that pearl of nerves in you with no effort. The sensation flooded your lower half, and he pulled away from you, shoving you against the wall as he knelt down, eyes flashing up at you, looking like sin. His hair was rumpled from you running your fingers through it, his body naked and almost too perfect to withstand. He winked up at you, that charming smirk on his lips, and slowly, he looped his fingers in the fabric of your panties and pulled them down._

_You instinctively went to cover yourself, but he caught your hands, shaking his head at you, his own hands encircling your wrists. He brought your hands to his shoulders, where you kept them, even after he let go, despite your shyness._

_"I thought I told you that you've got a body worth showing off," he said, and his voice was husky. Your cheeks were red with heat. You looked away from him, and you felt his hands trail up your thighs, his touch a feather-light whisper on your skin, leaving goose-pimples behind in lines. "You've never done this before." It wasn't a question. You said nothing._

_Suddenly, his hands were hooking behind your thighs, and he was standing, and he was lifting you up and then throwing you onto the mattress, eyes burning dark and deep. You were breathless, gasping for air as his body covered yours, lean and sinuous. You felt every place his skin touched yours like his body was a live wire; you shivered at the sensation as he leaned down and bit at your neck._

_You felt him smirk against your skin, and he bit you again, harder this time. You yelped._

_He made a rough noise at the sound, and then he gave a somewhat winded laugh, the only evidence that he was as affected by this as you were. "You're not getting any sleep tonight," he said roughly, and then his mouth was on yours again, and you were kissing, and his hands were all over your body._

_He reached down and slipped a finger into you again, swirling it around your clit just hard enough to make you whimper against his mouth. You clutched at his arms, not sure if you were trying to make him stop or trying to get him to keep going. Maybe you didn't even know._

_Without warning, he dipped one finger inside of you, causing you to gasp and squirm. Even when you'd gotten yourself off before, you'd never been brave enough to put anything in your body-- you'd never imagined it'd feel good. But now..._

_He worked the one finger inside of you for only a moment before adding another, and the vaguely pleasant sensation grew stronger, and stronger, and then he was really going to town in you, thrusting his fingers in and out, and you moaned both at how it felt and how wrong it seemed, when he had a perfectly good erection to put to use. Somehow, the wrongness made it feel better._

_He curled his fingers inside of you, and out of fucking nowhere, a sensation like you'd never experience exploded in your body. "Holy SHIT," you exclaimed, pulling back from his mouth, looking up at him in surprise. That hadn't been an orgasm, right?_

_He didn't explain, just smirked and went back to your neck, trailing kisses down it and to your collarbone as his thumb found your clit. He resumed his pace, pumping his fingers into you, and his thumb rubbed against your clit as he did so. You groaned._

_"That feels-- so-- so good," you managed after a few times. Your climax was building, faster than it had ever built before, and you were about to scream. "I'm gonna--"_

_You were already coming. You yelled as you came, clutching into his back and leaving nail marks, you were sure. He withdrew his fingers from you and, once you could see again, he made sure to lick them clean as you watched. Your cunt fluttered with heat at the sight._

_"You shouldn't do that," you said breathlessly, even though the sight had you ready to go._

_He laughed. "We shouldn't be doing any of this, Y/N," he said, and that's when you really thought about what was happening, who he was. Your stomach flipped as you realized you were fucking your professor._

_And then you woke up._

* * *

You jack-knifed up into a sitting position, no idea where you were, who you were, or what century it was. Panicking, you wrestled with the blankets tangled around your legs and looked around wildly, your frantic movements coming to a halt as your eyes processed the sight of Chanyeol sleeping on his side of the room.

_Oh._

Dorm. College. Roommate.  _Dreaming about fucking your professor._

_Oh, fuck._

This was not good, not good at all. You scowled down at your nether-region, pissed off that you were turned on from the dream, pissed off that you'd had the dream in the first place, just pissed off in general. Baekhyun was attractive, beyond so. And yeah, he appeared to be interested in you, but there were three  _extremely valid_ reasons why his looks and his interest didn't matter.

One, he was your professor. Your literal professor at your literal college and, no, smart girls just don't go around hopping on their professor's dicks for the hell of it, thank you.

Two, he'd blackmailed you into the relationship (could you call it a relationship?) to begin with. You would give him nothing for it, absolutely nothing, and yes, that included sex.  _No sex._

And three--

Your phone dinged loudly, once, then twice, then three times. Quickly, you snatched it up, turning your ringer off so you didn't wake Chanyeol. Squinting at the bright screen, you first saw the time, thought  _who the hell is texting me at one in the morning_ , and then saw the contact you'd saved just a few hours prior, the second you'd gotten back to your dorm, so you could let him know you were safe per his request.

[I can't sleep because I can't get you in that damn dress out of my mind.] - Professor Byun

[Sorry if that's too much.] - Professor Byun

[You're too much.] - Professor Byun

Before you could process this, more texts came in. You squeezed your thighs together at his words and tried to pretend you weren't doing it. No, you were most certainly _not_ turned on by this. Not even a little bit.

[I hope you know I'm gonna have to go jack off to get to sleep tonight. Thanks a lot.] - Professor Byun

There was a once second gap between texts as you gaped at your screen.

[Goodnight, Y/N.] - Professor Byun

 _God fucking damn it._ You threw your phone on the carpet and yanked your covers over your head again.

You were truly, royally screwed. 


	5. Let Me Burn

You weren't planning on texting Baekhyun back, swear to God, but this homework made no sense. You were staring blankly at it, cursing yourself for zoning out all of the time in his class, and trying not to scream. The prompt was simple enough-- it was the goddamn translation that was the problem. You  _knew_ you'd learned the words, but you couldn't find them in your notes, and you were too embarrassed to ask Chanyeol for help.

"I tried to wait up for you," he'd said sheepishly as the two of you had eaten breakfast together that morning, "but I fell asleep on my textbook. What did you guys do?"

You tried to be generic as possible. "Went around town, I guess. Nothing fancy."

Okay, that was a blatant lie. The restaurant Baekhyun had taken you to was classier than any you'd ever seen in your life, even on TV, but in an effortless way. The place seemed to ooze charm, and they didn't serve those ridiculous rich-people portions and delicacies (one little caviar on a huge plate with artfully drizzled sauce?  _Not_ appealing) but actual restaurant food. When he'd first walked you in, you'd tried to turn around, muttering "nope" and hoping you didn't trip in your haste to get out of the door.

But he'd caught your elbow gently, and had ushered you back in, murmuring, "Relax.  _Relax._ Just think about your homework, that I'm sure you still haven't done."

You'd glared up at him.

But the bastard had been right. So currently, you were glaring at the sheet in question, alone in your dorm (Chanyeol had gone to the library). You'd been  _trying_ to work on this goddamn thing for over an hour now with absolutely no luck, and you kept getting distracted besides. Chanyeol had understood that you weren't really in the mood to discuss your date, but maybe if you talked about it, you would stop fucking thinking about it. If so, you needed to share ASAP, because you were pretty sure you were losing your mind.

You couldn't get the littlest things out of your head. Like the way he held the door for you. The way he'd smirked no less than three times in three minutes as you tried to cuss him out for calling you "mouse" (and the way you'd sounded like you were squeaking as you did so).

It wasn't that you were falling for him. It was that he was stuck in your goddamn brain like a stupid fucking virus, and you had no idea how to cure yourself of him.

His eyes had stayed on you all night, roaming your dress and straddling the line between okay-staring and creepy-staring. He'd watched the curve of your lips as you'd sucked on your straw, you were sure, and he'd even gone so far as to tell you, as you nervously rambled about how black wasn't really your color, that you were an idiot-- he was sure every color looked good on you.

You remembered (as you shoved your homework away, because face it, at this point it was never going to get done) the way he'd taken your hand after you'd tripped over nothing, refusing to let go because "you'll break your pretty face if I do." And the way he'd teased you as he'd taken you to the campus greenhouse and you'd almost knocked over a flower-pot. "Are you always this klutzy?" He'd asked. "Or is it because of me?"

It was because of him, the bastard, but there was no way you were telling him that. He made you too nervous to function.

You'd gotten back to your room sometime around twelve, with Chanyeol sleeping and your phone beckoning from where you'd left it on your mattress. Per his request, you'd taken the slip of paper out of your purse and had plugged his number into his phone, letting him know you were home safely.

[It's Y/N Y/L/N. I got home safe.] You didn't want to just give your first name. You didn't want to admit that level of familiarity.

His text had come almost instantly.

[Finally!]

Rolling your eyes, you'd labeled his number 'Professor Byun', and you were only half-surprised when more texts came in.

[You must walk exceptionally slow.] - Professor Byun

[I was wondering if you'd died.] - Professor Byun

[Or maybe you fell into a ditch.] - Professor Byun

[I'd hate to see what you're like in heels.] - Professor Byun

[Actually, no, I'd love to see that.] - Professor Byun

You'd throw your phone on your desk at that, grumbling about fuckboy teachers and bemoaning-- quietly, so you didn't wake Chanyeol up- what your life had come to. All you'd wanted to do was sleep, but of course that hadn't been in the stars. What  _had_ been in the stars, however, was a wet dream and some questionable text messages that you still hadn't replied to.

Presently, you glared again at your Korean homework and then checked the time on your phone.  _Oh fuck me, I've been staring at the stupid paper for an hour._ That did it. You were texting him. Students asked professors for help all the time, right? If not via phone, then by email. And what was the difference, really, anyway, in this day and age?

You took several minutes composing your text.

[I need help. I can't do this homework.] - Y/N

You sent it with shaking hands. You halfway didn't expect him to reply, which was why you set your phone down and went to the kitchen for a glass of water as you waited. You eyed yourself in the hallway mirror on the way back and grumbled some more. You had eye bags because of him. You looked terrible with eye bags.

After prodding at your under-eyes for a probably unhealthy amount of time, you returned to your room to see your phone lit up.

"Oh!" You hurried over to it, hoping against hope that he'd just volunteer to help you, no other questions asked.

[You really still haven't done it?] - Professor Byun

[Do you really hate my class that much?] - Professor Byun

You shut your eyes and shook your head in exasperation. Only he would take it personally.

 _No,_ you typed, ignoring the way your heart started to speed up.  _I just zone out a lot, is all._

There was a minute of nothing, no typing bubble or anything, and you started to think he'd gotten distracted. Then, the text came in.

[Any particular reason why?] - Professor Byun

Oh, you were  _so_ going to smack him.

[You're distracting.] - Y/N

It was all you could think to say.

Then, you'd gotten the typing bubble, and you moved over to your bed to lay down as the conversation proceeded. You were still so tired.

[You're pretty fucking distracting yourself.] - Professor Byun

You felt your cheeks flush crimson just as you heard the dorm door unlock and open.

"I'm back!" Chanyeol called. You quickly turned the brightness down on your phone so he wouldn't see who you were texting before he came into the room, but when he entered, he still raised his eyebrows at you. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing!" You sounded a little hysterical. Maybe that was why he held his hands up, a disturbingly familiar smirk on his face, and said, "Okay, of course you're not."

Your phone buzzed.

[Not to be that guy. But you need to stop wearing those clothes to my class. Wear sweatpants or something.] - Professor Byun

Before you could get mad, he added:

[I mean, wear what you want. But if you want a competent teacher, you might want to rethink your wardrobe choices.]

You were going to ignore the heat that spread below your waist at what he was suggesting. Had he gotten hard in class because of you?  _Oh now it's on,_ you thought, and despite yourself, you were already planning the perfect outfit to wear to fuck him over on Monday.

Your phone buzzed again.

[Skype me.] - Professor Byun

[If you want help on your homework, that is.] - Professor Byun

You glanced over at Chanyeol, who was unloading what seemed like a million library books from his backpack.

 _I can't,_ you typed.  _My roommate is here. And I look too hideous to leave the dorm._

His response was faster than lightning.

[You could never be hideous.] - Professor Byun

[But I guess if you don't want help...] - Professor Byun

[... I have other things to do. Like think about what you look like in heels.] - Professor Byun

Frantically, you tried to backtrack.

[WAIT. Give me like five minutes to fix my hair and I'll Skype you from the library!] - Y/N

Your phone buzzed one last time, the sound ripe with finality.

[See you on Monday, Y/N.] - Professor Byun

You could practically hear him laughing.

* * *

You couldn't fucking go to class like this. Why had you thought it was a good idea? You were so fucking stupid, so goddamn stupid. You always brought all of your suffering on yourself.

Only a masochistic idiot would set to work on Sehun's assignment during her lunch break, when she still had a class to go to-- and not just any class,  _Baekhyun's_ class. What the hell were you supposed to do, show up crying, puffy-eyed, red-faced? But you couldn't just  _ditch,_ not when you were a scholarship student, especially not with him. He'd never let you live it down.

You were curled up on your dorm floor, papers strewn around you, most of them almost highlighted in their entirety. Sehun had been right. It was abuse. You were being abused. You were being abused, and all you could think about was the fact that you'd been groomed so well you no longer had any idea what was real. If your parents really were abusing you without you realizing, what else had been going on around you while you slept with your head in the sand?

You had no idea how you managed to scrape yourself up off the floor and leave the dorm. You wiped at your eyes and sniffled as you set off towards the languages building, not caring if you were late, so long as you didn't have to enter the classroom still-sobbing.

The walk seemed much longer than you remembered. Your body wasn't tired, but your heart was, and all you wanted to do was text Sehun for emotional support, but you couldn't, you had class. Your legs started to shake.  _No, no, no,_ you were  _not_ having an anxiety attack. You were  _not_ showing up to class like this.

You wanted to badly to stop in a bathroom once you got to the building to fix yourself, but it seemed you were late as it was, the halls were empty. So you wiped your eyes, sniffled, and pushed your hair back from your face before reaching for the door. With a cold, acid fear tingling in your gut (anxiety! anxiety! anxiety!), you pulled the door open and stepped in.

All eyes were on you again, but this time, you wouldn't spill hot coffee on yourself. You bowed your head in apology towards the front of the classroom, refusing to look at  _him_ , and then you quickly made your way to the seat.

You could hear people whispering, even after you sat down. 

"... she doesn't like the class, but that doesn't mean..."

"... isn't she the scholarship student?"

"... wonder where she gets that attitude from..."

You bit your lip.  _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,_ you told yourself, but it was too late, you were already crying. You covered your mouth with your hand and pulled the hood up on your hoodie, hoping that maybe that would block your face from view. You tried to block out what people were saying as you retrieved your homework. Yes, you'd finally done it-- not that it made any sense, and not that he was still going over it. A quick glance up at the blackboard showed that he was currently teaching vocabulary, so you got your notebook out too, and your favorite pen. You hardly ever used it anymore because it was running out of ink, but you thought you deserved and needed the comfort right now.

The rest of class went by without a hitch. You avoided making eye contact with Baekhyun and showing him your puffy eyes, you took your notes, and you even heard some of the people around you redacted what they'd said earlier.

"... I think she's crying. Do you think someone died?"

"... shit, now I feel bad."

"... do you think she can hear us? I hope not."

Yeah, you very well  _could_ hear them, but you didn't want to embarrass them (or yourself!) any further by letting them know that. You just sat silently, miserably, praying for your class to end so that you could run back to your dorm and curl up in a ball on your bed and snot-cry some more. Maybe Chanyeol would take pity on you and go buy you some ice cream.

When Baekhyun finally dismissed the class, you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders-- at least, until you heard, "Y/N Y/L/N, please stay after class."

You sunk into your chair. You considered making a break for it, but you definitely weren't fast enough or coordinated enough to do that without compromising what little dignity you had left. The one good thing, though, was the sympathetic looks you got from a few of the boys in the class as they passed by. One of them even mouthed,  _Good luck_ to you before leaving, and shutting the door behind him. 

Maybe everyone in your class wasn't an asshole, after all.

After a small moment of time where you forced yourself to steel your nerves. You glanced up at him, half-expecting him to be standing by your desk again. But no, he was standing at his, leaning back on it as he observed you with unreadable eyes.

"Come up here," he ordered, and you felt that familiar jolt of concentrated panic lightning through your chest. Was he going to punish you?? You couldn't afford to get in trouble on scholarship.

Abandoning your bag, you rushed forwards, saying, "I'm really sorry, I didn't--"

He held a hand up to stop you. "I don't care," he said, and your stomach jolted again. He must have realized how he sounded, because he revised, "I don't care about  _that._ " With two small steps forward, he was in front of you, and in one swift movement, he lowered your hood from your head, revealing your puffy face. "You've been crying again. Are you alright?"

 _How_ did he keep noticing these things? Friday night, you'd been almost back to normal, but he'd spotted the difference. And today, you'd been trying to hide, but he'd spotted you nevertheless. Did he really pay that much attention to you?  _Why?_

"Y/N." You didn't know what to say. He sighed. "I'm going to go lock the door," he said after a moment, and your heart jumped. "I'm not opening it again until you tell me what's going on."

There was no way in  _hell_ you were telling  _him._ "Nothing's going--"

He locked the door with a loud, pointed  _snick._ He turned back to you, his eyebrows raised as he said, "Nothing's wrong?" You nodded. "Absolutely nothing?" You nodded again, feeling stupid. "Then  _why the hell are you always crying?"_

You hardly thought that 'always' was fair. It had only been two times that he had seen you.

"I'm not--"

"Y/N." He was by your side again. "It's not because of me, is it?"

You couldn't speak for a moment. You hadn't even considered that he would think that, even after he had asked on Friday.  _That's_ really what he thought? That was ridiculous. He may have pissed you off, and he may have forced you into something you wanted no part of, but he was pretty decent to you, all things considered. And so far, your grades hadn't suffered, so could you really complain?

"Your silence is promising," he muttered, and that propelled you to speak.

"Professor,  _no,_ it's not--" You cut yourself off, shaking your head. "It's not you. You're not really..." You didn't know how to word it.  _Our coerced relationship and the subsequent blackmail has not yet had a lasting effect on my psyche?_ He didn't look convinced. "Professor--"

"Well if it's not me," he didn't sound like he believed it wasn't, "then what's wrong?" You took a step back, shaking your head. All of the words you'd highlighted in the packet were swimming in your mind, announcing themselves and parading around like neon yellow hornets.  _Controls actions, insulting, gaslighting, threatening._ Check, check, check, check. You shook your head again, and again, until you were crying again. "Y/N--"

"I can't tell you, I can't," you said, and you tried to pretend your voice wasn't cracking. Angrily, you wiped at your eyes.  _Damn it, I didn't want to cry in front of him._

"Try me," he said.

You shook your head once more. "It's personal. It's something I'll just talk about with Sehun--"

That seemed to set him off. He cursed colorfully and said, " _Damn_ Sehun. I'm asking you because I want to help you. Maybe I'm not a therapist, but I'm not a complete idiot, alright? Let me help you." You bit at your lip again and kept wiping your eyes. He lowered his voice. "Is someone harassing you?" He asked.

"No," you said. "People don't talk to me much, but they don't outright--"

"Y/N, that's not--" Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I meant-- is someone  _harassing you?"_

_Was someone sexually assaulting you._

"No, no," you said quickly. Judging by the look in his eyes, you did not want to see what he would do if you told him you were being sexually harassed. "It's nothing at school, it's just--"

His eyes flashed. "Family," he said, and it wasn't a question, just a simple statement that gave you pause, made your breath catch.

It took you what seemed like an eternity to decide how to respond. Finally, you said, very quietly and without looking at him, "Yeah, family."

He looked away from you. "Tell me about it," he commanded, his voice soft.

And you did. 

You told him everything, all about your childhood, about your adolescence, about your teenaged years. Stuff you'd never thought to even tell Sehun was spilling out, coming up out of the cracks in your skin where you crammed all of your secrets. You told him about that one male friend you'd had, the first person to ever get handsy with you-- he'd growled at that. You told him about all the times your father and your mother had fought, had screamed, had raged. You told him everything, about how you weren't allowed to date, about how you'd never been kissed, how you'd never had sex. About how they tracked your phone, which was why you left it behind on your date.

He was silent, listening, waiting for you to be done. When you were finally done, you choked on your breath, thinking,  _Oh God I shouldn't have said all that._

"Y/N," he said, his voice tense, "what are you doing over your breaks?"

 _My... breaks?_ Your face was a question mark.

"Winter break, summer break. Any holiday breaks," Baekhyun supplied. His eyes locked onto yours, and he said, "I don't want you going home to that. So let's figure out a plan. I can get you an internship almost anywhere, where are you interested?"

You stared, trying to process what was happening. "I don't..." It was all too nice to think about, but the reality hit you: your parents would want to see you, would want you to come home for one of them. "I can't."

His eyes hardened. "Y/N, let me rephrase that," he said, his voice mild and his expression mild but the soul of his being toeing the line. "I am not letting you go home to that. You will be staying with me during breaks until you graduate, or until you manage to emancipate yourself." He walked around to the other side of his desk, opening a drawer and rifling through it to find something in there as you stared, unblinking. "I can get you internships almost anywhere you want. What are you interested in?"

"I-- I--" You had no idea. You couldn't exactly process what was going on, everything seemed surreal and foggy. Like a nice dream that you'd wake up from any second.

Speaking of dreams, you suddenly remembered...

_You felt him smirk against your skin, and he bit you again, harder this time. You yelped._

_He made a rough noise at the sound, and then he gave a somewhat winded laugh, the only evidence that he was as affected by this as you were. "You're not getting any sleep tonight," he said roughly, and then his mouth was on yours again, and you were kissing, and his hands were all over your body._

_He reached down and slipped a finger into you again, swirling it around your clit just hard enough to make you whimper against his mouth. You clutched at his arms, not sure if you were trying to make him stop or trying to get him to keep going. Maybe you didn't even know._

You felt your face turn blush-bright scarlet in a fraction of a second. When he looked up from his desk, a small pile of papers in hand, you were blushing like mad, unable to stop thinking about the dream you'd blocked out since it had happened Friday night.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you alright?" He asked you for the second time.

Honestly? "Not really," you said.

He nodded at the honesty, his eyes guarded, and then he handed the pile of papers over. "I want you to go through those this week and see which ones you're interested in. The sooner we apply, the sooner we have you covered." You took the papers wordlessly, trying not to think about the last pile of papers you'd been forcibly handed. "Y/N, I'm serious about this. I'm not letting you back into that environment. I wouldn't be doing my job as--" He broke off and looked away before continuing, "-- my job as your teacher if I didn't make sure you were safe."

"But--" You didn't know what to say. It seemed too good to be true. And that blush was still burning in your cheeks. "Professor, I don't think-- I don't know--"

Baekhyun stared at you with sharp eyes. "Have you ever known me to take 'no' for an answer, Y/N?" He asked. You shook your head. "Exactly. So don't test me on this. You can stay with me during breaks if they won't let you keep your dorm."

Your blushing got worse. "I can't--"

"I'm not going to..." He struggled to find a word that was semi-appropriate. " _Ravish_ you if that's what you're thinking. Unless," he added, a smirk on his face, "you ask me to, of course."

You wanted to shoot back that you would never ask him to, but then you remembered your dream and thought it was best that you kept your stupid mouth shut. "Thank you," you said softly instead.

He didn't speak for a moment, for so long that you started to wonder if you should go or maybe say something else. Then, he said, "Come here" in a low, tempting voice.

 _No!_ You thought at yourself as you went around to his side of the desk.  _Not tempting! Repulsive! Gross! I thought we established that you weren't giving him anything?_

But he wasn't anything like you'd thought, really. He was cocky for sure, but he'd just essentially offered to take you in just because your family was shit. Despite only having known you for a few weeks.

You stopped a few feet away from him. He shook his head and said, "Closer." You obeyed. "Closer." You moved again, and again, until the two of you were merely inches apart. You stared up at him, and you noticed for the first time how good he smelled, how sweet his face truly was when he wasn't smirking, how he was even more handsome than you'd already thought.

"Y/N," he said softly, and he wasn't touching you, but you knew he was going to. Your heart pounded so fast in your chest that it was almost painful. You closed your eyes, waiting, ready, and then you felt his lips press against your forehead. "Someday I'll be your first kiss," he whispered against your skin, and you felt butterflies ghosting in your lungs. "But not today, baby. Not like this."

You felt him move away from you, but you kept your eyes closed. You didn't think you were able to move, your entire body was still frozen.

"Open your eyes, Y/N," Baekhyun said, his voice quiet. You found that you could do it when he said so. You looked up at him again, and he smiled a half-smile. "Go get some rest," he said gently, and he led you over to your desk so you could collect your stuff as he unlocked the door. You almost wanted to argue, wanted to stay, but there was no reason to.

He was, after all, your professor.

And good girls listen to their professors.


	6. Light Me Up

The first time you'd ever come to Oh Sehun's office, you'd been about sixteen years old, small and shy and absolutely terrified to be left alone with the man who called himself a "therapist."

What, exactly, was a therapist supposed to be? You'd thought. You didn't want to spill all of your secrets to a man-- a  _man--_ you didn't even know. You didn't want to talk to him. And by the look on his face, he didn't want to talk to you either.

You'd begged your parents to take you back home, but they'd only snapped at you about how selfish you were being. Then, you'd shut down, and just as your eyes had sunk to the floor, Sehun had called you into his room.  _Into the abyss I go,_ you'd thought dramatically, and you'd gathered your notebook in your arms and had entered the office that would become your safe haven.

Presently, you stared at the man in question, your heart hurting, but not because of him. "Do you remember the first time we met?" You asked quietly. He nodded, his eyes hesitant. You could tell he didn't know where you were going with this. "I thought you hated me."

At  _that,_ he rolled his eyes. "I think that's just the way my face is," he said. You laughed a little, tiny giggles fighting against the strain wrapped around you, the shroud that suffocated you. You'd thrown the stack of papers at his lap the second he'd sat down, and then the two of you had dissolved into silence. You knew he could see all of the highlighting. You knew. And he got that look on his face, that one that made his beautiful features so cold, and you'd been instantly reminded of the first time the two of you had met.

"My name is Oh Sehun. You can call me Sehun, that's my first name," he'd said.

 _Fat chance,_ you'd thought. No way were you calling this intimidating man by his first name. "I, uh--"

"You're Y/N," he'd supplied. You'd nodded, cheeks heating. He was really attractive. And scary. God damn it.

Sehun had put his clipboard down on the carpet by his feet. "Y/N, would you like to tell me why your parents brought you here?" He'd asked after a moment.

And you'd snorted. "Because they hate me," you'd said.

His features had softened, to your surprise. "I'm sure your parents don't hate you, Y/N."

So maybe they didn't hate you. But if that pile of highlighted papers was any indication, they didn't like you that much either. Or themselves, for that matter.

You sighed and closed your eyes, turning to bury your face in the crook of the couch where the arm met the back. "I'm so tired," you mumbled. "Just, so fucking tired of all this. You were right. Of course you were right." You bit at your lip, not too hard, but hard enough to make you inwardly flinch. "I'm a goddamn abuse victim."

Sehun was silent for a moment. "I could give you a bullshit speech about how being a victim is only a state of mind, or tell you that you're not a victim but a survivor," he started, "but that's exactly what it would be. Bullshit. People always try to put a positive twist on abuse. Like, 'you wouldn't be the person you are today without it.' But I'm not going to do that to you."

You breathed against the couch for a few moments. "Why?" You asked, your voice muffled.

"Because, like I said. It's bullshit," said Sehun easily.

You removed your face from the crook of the couch and eyed him critically. "Are you telling me that life sucks and then I die?"

He didn't laugh. "I'm telling you that I'm not going to lie to you and try to make this into something positive. You're an abuse victim. Yes, you've survived. But just barely." You nodded. For some reason, that validation was exactly what you needed to hear.

You don't think you would have been able to bear it if he'd called you a survivor like he'd said, or if he'd told you that you were stronger because of the abuse, or anything stupid like that. You'd always been strong, always been defiant and tenacious and fierce.

Abuse did not make a person. It could only break them.

"Someone suggested to me," you started carefully, "that I get an internship over my breaks. So that I won't have to see my family as much."

Sehun raised his eyebrows. "That's a great idea, actually."  _Don't ask me who came up with it. I'm shit at lying._ "Was there anywhere in particular where you were interested?"

Your mind went through the stack of papers Baekhyun had given you the other day. There'd been internships for almost everything you could imagine, but the few that had stuck with you had been the ones about writing. There'd even been small journalism gig at one of your favorite magazines. You knew that that meant, if hired, you'd probably just be getting everyone coffee and whatnot, but it was still exciting to think that you had the opportunity to apply to a scholarship at the magazine you'd been reading since you were a kid.

And it was all thanks to Baekhyun.

Not that you could say that. But you still didn't want to lie to Sehun, so you said, "There are a couple of journalism ones that I've found that look really cool."

He nodded. "Just make sure you apply as soon as you can," he said. "That way more positions are open, and you have a better chance of getting one. Do you need help with a resume?"

You shook your head. "I've got one already, thanks." Scholarship students tended to have their accomplishments and service at the ready. How else were you going to get the big bucks?

You glanced down at your phone and grimaced. Your time was almost up already. And although Sehun had never once rushed you out of his office, no matter how late you ran over, it was always a special event when you went into the waiting room and had to deal with the glares of the people you'd held up. _No, thank you._ "Is there anything else you want to tell me before I go?" You asked with a sigh.

He stood. "Yes, actually," he said, and he fixed his eyes on you. "Have some fun."

_... huh?_

"Have... fun?" You asked dubiously. Even you weren't sure why you were so confused, as it wasn't like Sehun had never before expressed concern over your lack of lightheartedness. It wasn't even the first time he'd told you to get out more. But just 'have fun'?

Was it sad that you had no idea how to do that?

Sehun laughed a little at the look on your face. "You'll figure it out," he said.

You doubted it. "Isn't there another stack of traumatizing papers I could read instead?" You hedged, only half-way joking, hand on his office doorknob.

He shook his head. "Goodbye, Y/N," he'd said, humor in his voice. He was almost... cocky.

You groaned and flung yourself out of the room, trying not to huff as you stalked past the staring patients. You had enough cocky bastards in your life, thank you very much.

* * *

You heard the text tones go off as you drove, but you weren't stupid enough to check your phone while you were driving.  _Nobody ever texts me,_ you thought. Only Chanyeol, Sehun, and your parents... and since Chanyeol was out on a date, and you'd just left Sehun's, that left--

Aw, fuck.

You felt those three little dings weigh on you like Atlas' sky the entire drive back to your dorm. You turned on the radio in an attempt to distract yourself, but the flashy beats and vapid lyrics did nothing.  _I wonder what happened. Did I do something wrong?_ Your breath started to hitch in your chest.  _I did something wrong. I must have done something wrong. They found out about the abuse thing._ Oh God, now you were almost hyperventilating. You fought to keep your hands steady on the wheel.  _They found out that I think they're abusive and they're going to kill me, literally kill me._

A loud honk snapped you out of your spiral of panic. You'd started to swerve into the wrong lane, which was thankfully empty, and the car behind you had warned you. Your heart flipped several times in your chest as you righted yourself.  _I'm a disaster. I'm a disaster._

You couldn't drive like this. You flicked your blinkers and pulled over to the shoulder, carefully positioning your car so that you were in no way in the stream of traffic.

Then, you screamed.

Just screamed.  _This isn't fair!_ was what you would have said, had you been capable of producing words. All you could manage was a loud, indignant yell-- wordless yet filled with rage and madness.

 _God damn it!_ You slammed on your steering wheel with the palms of your hands again and again and again, until they were bright red and you finally stopped shaking. You stopped screaming abruptly, your yells cutting off like a cliff's edge as you curled in on yourself, crumpling and deflating.

"God damn it," you whispered, and then you reached in your bag for your phone. You'd been right: there were three missed texts, and they were all from your parents.

[How's the Korean work going, honey?] - Mom

Your nostrils flared. You weren't her 'honey.' And how dare she act all lovey-dovey when, first and foremost, yeah, she was abusing you, and also, she was just trying to pry info about your grades out of you?

There was another text. 

[You'd tell me if you met any boys, right? Your father and I are worried that you're having trouble in class because you have a boyfriend. You know you're not allowed to date, Y/N. Your father would have a heart attack if he found out you'd went behind his back.] - Mom

There it was. The classic guilting. Too bad for her, you weren't in the mood to let it work.

First of all, it was, quite frankly, none of their damn business who you were dating or if you were dating at all. Their contribution to your college tuition was never asked for-- you'd have been happy to go into debt if it meant you were free-- so there was no way in hell you'd let them hold that over your head in order to control you.

Second of all, even  _if_ your father had a heart attack, that was more  _his_ fault than yours. Maybe heart attacks are what happen when you realize you don't own everything in the universe.

And third of all,  _you weren't even doing poorly in Korean._ You were above average actually-- your parents just expected that you were such a fuck-up that you were failing it, with no sound evidence to back the hypothesis up!

The last text was, of course, from your father.

[No boys.] - Dad

Charming.

With an angry huff, you stuffed your phone in your bag, flipped off your blinkers and turned on your turn signal. You were back on the road in seconds, driving away, driving to your dorm, the only home you had ever really had.

* * *

You finished blow-drying your hair with a forced enthusiasm that made the reflection of your grimace near-terrifying. You were a sound believer in "fake it till you make it", so that was just what you were doing. You didn't know how to have fun? Well, fake it, bitch. Shower. Put on makeup. Straighten your hair.

You padded out of your bathroom to search for your favorite jeans. You weren't sure exactly where you were planning on going. The library? Books were fun. You especially liked the ones in the library because the librarian, Janice, was really sweet.

_Y/N._

You could just  _hear_ Sehun's scathing tone, and you scowled at it.  _Spending your Friday night with Janice the librarian is not fun._

Yeah, it was Friday. Thursday had seen one of Sehun's clients in an emergency state, so that meant your standing Thursday appointment had been pushed back to Friday, which you really didn't mind, except that it meant you couldn't procrastinate his latest assignment. Fridays were, like, known for their fun-ness.

_Fun-ness? Oh my god._

You were absolutely pathetic.

Still scowling, you tugged on your jeans, threw on a nice blouse, and then slid your feet into flats. Nothing special, but nothing embarrassing either. You thought you looked decent as you tucked your hair behind your ears while checking yourself in the mirror.

 "Now or never," you said to your reflection, and then, bag on your shoulder, you forced yourself out of the dorm.

The walk to the library wasn't a long one, necessarily; it required that you pass the science center, and then the languages building, where you had class with Baekhyun. You took the walk as a welcome, silent reprieve from all of the things that badgered at you. You liked going for walks. Maybe walks counted as fun?

You started to walk past the languages building, but then you stopped. Maybe Baekhyun could help you figure out what to do about your parents thinking you were failing his class. No matter how many times you told them, they never believed you, even when you showed them your grade reports. He was your professor, after all...

You took a deep breath and changed course. You stalked up to the languages building, heart throbbing in your throat.  _Stop that,_ you thought at it.  _I'm just seeing if he's in his office so I can ask him a damn question._

You couldn't remember his office hours, and you didn't want to fish your phone out of your bag to text him to ask. You thought for a second that maybe you should warn him you were coming, but then you thought,  _stupid, a normal student wouldn't. And you just want to be a normal student to him, no matter what he says, remember?_

You remembered.

You made your way through the building, getting more and more nervous the closer you got to the wing that held the professor's offices. It was separate from the classrooms, and you'd never been before, but you'd had it pointed out to you during orientation. You took several wrong turns, but eventually you found a hallway full of closed doors with "So and So-- XYZ Professor" plaques on them, and you figured you were in the right place.

It took another minute of walking, but you found Baekhyun's office at the end of the long hallway. The door was ajar, and you could see light coming out of it. Hesitantly, you made your way over, and you knocked on the doorframe.

"Come in," he said from inside. To your surprise, relief didn't wash over you-- hadn't you just been worried that he wouldn't be there? Still, you weren't going to just stand there like an idiot, so you pushed the door in and stepped into his office.

Your heart squeezed.

He looked so...  _soft._ His hair was rumpled, and he had glasses on as he reviewed an important-looking stack of papers. He looked up at you with surprise and a half-smile on his lips, what looked like a pure smile, not that cocky smirk he usually wore on his handsome face. You noticed that his tie was undone, hanging around his neck, loose, and his shirt was undone a few buttons, revealing a white undershirt and a smooth neck that looked extremely...

Kissable.

Before you even knew what you were doing-- far before you could think to close the door, even-- you were walking around his desk, sitting on his lap, and kissing him as as strongly as you could.

You didn't necessarily know what you were doing, but he did, and it only took him a few seconds to recover from the shock and kiss you back. His hands went up to your head, holding you in place as he pecked a million little kisses on your lips, threading through your hair as he pulled you to him, close, closer, and his lips started to bruise against yours, strong again, hard enough to make the kisses sting. But oh God, did it feel good.

You moaned, and as you opened your mouth, he took it as permission, and you were dying, electrified, oh God...

You made a noise and scooted closer to his torso, your hands running over his chest, your mouth fighting back against him like the two of you liked to argue. You remembered all the times you'd called him a bastard, and suddenly, you wanted to kiss away every single one of them.  _Let me help you._ His voice was in your head, his tongue in your mouth, his hands sliding down to your hips.

"Y/N," he said against your mouth, his voice breathy. "What the hell are you doing."

He didn't quite manage to make it into a question, which was just as well, because you couldn't quite manage an answer. You kissed him again, your lips brushing over his, sending sparks down your spine and into your gut, where they sizzled and grew into an arousal that you couldn't deny. Hell, you couldn't deny his either-- you were sitting on it.

"'M not sure," you admitted. "I just need..."

His hands were on your shoulders all of the sudden, and he was pushing you back, not roughly, but firmly. His eyes met yours, and you saw that his glasses were askew. Your heart thumped in protest at how cute it looked.

"Did something happen?" He asked you, his deep eyes concerned.

Why was he asking that? "No," you lied. He made a face and went to push you off of him, so you quickly changed your tune. "Alright, yes. My parents were just..." You trailed off. He was your professor. Even with the conversation you'd already had and the way he'd insisted you come to him with any other problems, you didn't think he wanted to hear about your fucked up family life any more. Especially not when he was half-hard.

"Your parents were just...?"

He wasn't going to keep kissing you, was he?

With a sigh, you slid off of him, straightening your blouse and feeling yourself deflate once again. The high of kissing him was wearing off, and all of the sudden you were mortified.

"They were just texting me," you mumbled, staring at the floor with red cheeks. God, what had come over you? You'd  _kissed your professor._ Not in a wet dream, not in a fantasy-- in real life! 

Who  _does_ that?

Baekhyun's hand shot out to take yours. His hand was warm and soft, his fingers long as they weaved through yours. "Texting you about what?"

Your cheeks were still burning, even though he was holding your hand. Maybe because of it.

"They were just being themselves. And it triggered me. And then I thought I could come here and have you say something to them about the fact that I'm not actually failing Korean like they think I am, and they'd maybe get off of my case a little. But I guess now that'd be really weird, considering I just threw myself at you, and--" Man, the door was looking pretty inviting. "I think I'll just g--"

Baekhyun tugged on your hand. "Don't go," he said. "Look at me."

You really didn't feel like arguing, so you did. His lips were pink from kissing. Your heart fluttered. He smirked. "You're welcome to throw yourself at me any time," he said lowly. He let his eyes trail over your body in a long, obvious once-over, and he smirked even more. "You look beautiful, by the way. You got a hot date?"

At that, he stood, his eyes sparkling, like he knew what you were going to say next. 

"Just with you, Professor," you said, your cheeks still red. He kissed the tip of your nose.

"That's my girl," he said, and without another glance at his paperwork, he grabbed your hand and led you from his office. You followed, a mantra playing in your head. But this time, instead of  _break my heart,_ it was:  _that's my girl._ You caught yourself smiling.

 _Idiot,_ you heard that practical voice in your head say, but you squashed it down, for the sake of having fun. Yes, for the sake of having fun, you let Baekhyun lead you from the building and into the wild night.


	7. Wonderful Things

You had no idea what'd come over you. Why were you smiling when you should be frowning, scowling? Why were you getting into Baekhyun's car when you should be getting literally anywhere else? What the hell was wrong with you?

You weren't the kind of girl who  _did things_ with her professor; you weren't the kind of girl to grab someone and kiss them without a warning, either. 

_So what the heck gives?_

The voice of practicality was yammering in your head as you slid into the passenger's seat of Baekhyun's sedan. It wasn't flashy, which surprised you (with his attitude? Please!) but sleek and expensive-looking. You didn't get a good look at the brand because you didn't want to look like you were looking (if that even made sense). Baekhyun closed your door behind you, having gotten it for you in the first place. You were still blushing. Why was he being a gentleman? Were the two of you just acting completely out of character tonight?

You couldn't bring yourself to sober up, even as you were left alone in the car for the few seconds it took for him to get to the driver's side.  _Get a grip,_ that tiny, pesky voice snapped at you.  _Apologize and then book it._

But you didn't want to apologize, and you most certainly did not want to book it. You... wanted to be with him. Wanted to touch him again, kiss him again, see exactly what those songs on the radio were always singing about. Was he thinking the same thing you were? You didn't ask where he was driving you as he went, not as he pulled out of the parking lot, not as he pulled away from the university, not even as he took the two of you on the highway. You should have likely felt uncomfortable-- or, by God, even a  _little_ bit anxious, but all of the sudden, you just didn't.

 You looked over at him as he drove, and you shivered. He'd taken his glasses off to drive-- they were reading glasses, then?-- and you could see his face better, could see where his lips were the slightest bit swollen from kissing you. You shivered again.

"Are you cold?" He asked, glancing over in concern.

You shook your head. "No," you said, your voice quiet, but unashamed.

He grinned.

* * *

He took you to the tallest building in the city, asking, "Are you afraid of heights?" before taking your hand and leading you inside as you stammered, "No." He led you past the front desk, where both the guard and the secretary waved their hellos at him. Your brow furrowed. How did he know them? You didn't ask.

Baekhyun ushered you to the center of the lobby, where a noble structure encased the elevator shaft, lined with gold-leaf and sharp cedar wood. It, like the rest of the building, was very expensive-looking. He pressed the 'up' button lightly, and the structure released a pleasing  _ding_ and admitted the two of you into its belly. As the doors slid open, you felt your stomach tingle, and you knew, you knew. You knew.

The second the elevator doors closed, you were on each other once more, and this time he wasn't pushing you away, not at all, not in the slightest. You pulled the tails of his dress shirt out of his pants and slid your hands under his shirt, over his abs-- and holy hell, did he have abs, you gasped against his mouth. He smirked against your lips and murmured, between kisses, "Something you like?"

You kissed him harder, determined to kiss that damn smirk off of his face. He was so cocky, so  _cocky,_ but damn it, he had every reason to be. You opened your lips for him, and at that, he grabbed your upper arms and shoved you against the wall, pinning you against it as he took the opportunity, as his tongue made love with yours, and holy holy hell, you were on  _fire,_ you'd never been so turned on in your life--

The elevator  _dinged_ as the doors opened once more. The two of you sprang apart as if you'd been struck by lightning. You saw out of the doors that you were on a completely different floor. You didn't remember him pressing any buttons.

"Come on," he said, his voice low, and he extended his hand for you to take. With a nod, you took his hand and followed again, allowed him to lead you out of the elevator and to the right, towards a grey-painted steel door, out of place in the classy building.

Where the hell was he taking you? Was he about to murder you?

As if he could hear your thoughts, he said, "Trust me, Y/N," his voice rich and soft.

The two of you traveled behind the door, which held a staircase leading only up. He looked over at you with a grin, and then the two of you set up several flights of stairs. Just when you were about to lose your mind wondering what was going on, you reached the top, and he let go of your hand and pushed the door at the top open.

You were on the roof.

Looking back on it, you thought, you should have really figured out you were going there. Up, up, and up, in the tallest building in the city? With the most extra boy on the planet? There should have been no question.  _But_ you were a little preoccupied--

You were still a little preoccupied.

You reached for him, dazzled by the endless sunset stretching around you, yes, but even more dazzled by the way he looked in it.

You'd never seen someone so beautiful. It almost  _hurt,_ how pretty he was, how sexy he was. You reached for him, but he sat down on the rooftop and patted the space next to him for you to sit. You hurried to oblige, thinking that if you were good, he'd kiss you again.

He didn't kiss you again. At least, not right away.

"Tell me, Y/N," he said simply, and he looked at you with lidded eyes, the only evidence you had that he was just as affected by your kisses as you were by his.

"Tell you what?" You asked, painfully aware of how dumb your voice sounded compared to his musical one.

"Tell me why you kissed me." His eyes held yours. He seemed to hesitate. You waited for him to say something else, but that, apparently, was it.

You stared at him for several seconds before you felt a burning blush fire up in your cheeks, and you looked away.

"I don't know," you said, mumbled. You were embarrassed. You felt like he was reprimanding you. "Sorry for it."

He made a noise. You looked over at him again. "Don't be sorry. I'm just..." He let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm just worried about you, is all."

He was worried about you? You went to say,  _don't be,_ but instead you asked, "Why?"

His eyes flitted to yours. They were dark and deep, but beautiful, and kind. You'd seen him wear many expressions in the short time you'd known him, but you'd never quite seen him look kind, until then. Softly, he said, "You said you'd tried to kill yourself. I just want to make sure you're safe, that you're not doing something with me just because you're upset. I want to know if you're not okay. Always."

You stared.

When had you said that? How did he know that? You weren't exactly shouting your old failed suicide attempt from the rooftops, now were you? Not even Chanyeol knew about it, and you'd told him all about your parents and other important things. Then, you remembered:

_"How long have you been seeing Sehun?"_

_"A few years."_

_"Are you seeing him for any particular reason?"_

_“I tried to kill myself."_

You _had_ told him about it. But you'd forgotten-- you'd gotten interrupted after that anyway, and besides, the hadn't even flinched. You hadn't thought he'd cared.

You laughed. "Seriously?" He cared? He cared. God. Why were you laughing.  _Stop. Laughing._

He was looking at you now with a little more than concern. You laughed harder, and then you felt something wet on your face. You reached up to touch your cheek and your hand came away wet; you were crying.

He reached for you, and you let him take your hand again. Your laughter died in your throat.

Okay. So. What the fuck was  _that?_

You couldn't stop shaking your head. "I can't believe..." You couldn't believe that he cared. Someone cared whether you lived or died, aside from Sehun. What the hell?

"You can't believe I care?" His voice was sort of... hurt.  _Oh no._ You realized a little too late that you were coming across all wrong.

"No, I-- I just, can't believe that you care, because I can't believe..." you swallowed. "Well. I can't believe anyone cares. Much less my Korean professor."

At  _that,_ he definitely flinched. "Am I really just a professor to you?"

Again, you back-tracked. "Do you think I slip all of my professors the tongue?" You were hoping for a playful tone. When he cracked a smile, you figured you'd succeeded.

"Y/N, of course I care," he said still. You shifted uncomfortably. You'd been half-way hoping that the topic had been changed, but no, it seemed the two of you were going there. "I'd care even if we weren't... whatever we are."

_Whatever we are._

You tried not to grimace.  _Oh fuck me, are we going to have the DTR talk?_ You contemplated pitching yourself off of the building. "Baekhyun. I'm supposed to be having fun right now. Sehun told me so."

Baekhyun was silent for a moment. Then--

"Well, first of all, Sehun's an ass, so ignore everything he says." You were 99% sure he was joking. "And second of all, I am  _loads of fun._ " That, you were sure, was serious. "And third, that's the first time you've ever said my name." For some reason, your heart caught at the realization. He was right. You'd never said his name before. You'd only ever before addressed him as 'Professor' or 'Professor Byun' or 'Hey, you asshole!'.

You didn't know what to say. You went to say something witty, but all that came out was, again, his name. Out of nowhere, you asked, "Baekhyun... why me?"

He seemed to understand what you meant immediately. He shook his head. "I don't know," he said at first, and you started to wither, but then he said: "I mean. There are a million valid reasons to pick you to break my heart. That's what you're talking about, right?" You nodded. "Well. When I first walked in, I felt like I got punched in the face. You were so beautiful."

At that, you scoffed.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I wanted to ask for your number right then and there, but I was afraid I'd bother you. You were clearly working on something." His voice had taken on a sort of narrative tone; it sounded like he was reciting some sort of fairy tale, but no, he was doing something more: he was letting you into his mind. "I tried to mind my own business, but I'd forgotten my phone in my car, anyway. I looked over at what you were working on, and I saw it: you were doing homework, very well, might I add-- and for my class."

There, you had to interrupt. "Shouldn't that have been a reason  _not_ to pick me?"

He laughed at that. "Yes, it should've." His eyes were dancing. He wrapped an arm around you, and you were surprised at how strong he seemed. He tugged you closer to him, so that your bodies were side by side, touching, and he leaned over and murmured in your ear, "But it only made you that much more tempting."

You swallowed at the tone of his voice. "And your other reasons?" You asked, hoping he wouldn't hear the weakness of your voice.

"Other than smart, and beautiful?" He nuzzled the skin below your ear, and you felt your stomach jump, leap, soar. "Hmm." He pretended to think. "Well. You know Sehun. He's one of my best friends." Quick, he nipped at your earlobe, and to your surprise, you let out a little breathy noise. What the hell, you liked being bitten, now?

Or did you just like anything... so long as he was the one doing it?

 _Girl, you are in so deep,_ that logical voice said, and you could picture a mini you shaking your head.

"And?" You prompted, breathlessly.

"You've got fire," he said. He turned towards you, so both of you were sitting cross-legged. He took your hands in his and looked in your eyes. "You called me a bastard about a hundred times. You threw a fit at me for trying to get you to date me."

 _That is not how I remember it._ But you let him talk.

"You're broken," he said simply, then, looking into your eyes, "but you try so hard to cover it up. You're brilliant, still, somehow, with everything going on in your life. I just... I'm astounded, how someone can be so broken and still shine so brightly."

You felt tears start to sting in your eyes. "I don't shine," you said, but even before you were done, he was shaking his head.

"Yes, you do," he said firmly. You wanted to look away from him, but something about the set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes, made that impossible. "Y/N. You want to hear my last reason?"

Your breath caught. You nodded, expecting him to say something serious again, but instead he said, "You're super fucking sexy."

You burst into laughter, but it was a burning kind of laughter, a flattered laughter, a disbelieving yet yearning laughter. Here was this gorgeous man, telling you you were sexy. You, the virgin. You, who had never kissed anyone before today.

Sexy?

"Sexy," he reaffirmed, and then he crashed his lips into yours.

You reciprocated passionately. You didn't know how it happened, exactly, but soon the two of you were laying on the rooftop, him atop you, his hands trailing down your body, exploring every curve and edge, tracing patterns on your hipbones and dipping into the waistband of your jeans, making heat bloom in your core. You gasped when you felt his fingers touch your clit for the first time, and he smirked above you but said nothing. He said everything with his hands.

He showed you how sexy he thought you were when he made you come, not one but two times on the rooftop, his fingers searching and teasing, breaking you down until you were a moaning, crying mess beneath him. That was, until he pulled your jeans down and used his tongue on you-- there were orgasms three and four, from his tongue and fingers alone. You felt him exploring you, kissing you, and it was all you could do to thread your fingers in his hair and whimper feebly as you felt things you had never before gotten yourself to feel.

You'd touched yourself before, yes, but you'd never felt anything so  _good._

"B-Baekhyun," you moaned, and he pulled back, causing you to whimper. He grinned up at you.

"I like it when you say my name like that," he'd said, and then he'd kept going.

Now, the two of you laid side by side, staring up at the stars. Your entire body was screaming from pleasure, worn out from coming so many times but still, strangely, ready to go. You'd offered to try to take care of Baekhyun in return, but he'd denied you. 

"Not today, baby," he'd said, sounding very much like he had back in his classroom, when you'd almost kissed him. "I'm not fucking you for the first time on a rooftop."

The two of you were holding hands. He asked you a million little questions, about the smallest things, but you found that his interest flattered you and that the cadence of your intertwining voices was calming. So you told him your favorite color, favorite CD, favorite number-- things like that. He took all of your answers and then more, more, always more-- he always wanted to know more.

You didn't know how long the two of you talked for. You only realized how long you'd been there when the sky started to lighten.

"Baek, oh my god, it's sunrise," you said, sitting up in wonder.

He'd followed, looking around. Then, he smiled the most glorious smile you'd ever seen, looking out over the city, as beautiful as ever. Your heart hurt.

_Break my heart._

* * *

Even once you'd finally crawled into your bed, all you could feel were his hands on your body. 


	8. Like a Drug

You weren't exactly sure what the goddamn protocol was for students heading to class after getting eaten out by their professor, but you were pretty sure it didn't involve showing up in sweatpants. Too bad for you, the universe was not and had never been on your side.

Your battered, second-hand Juicys were more than mortifying, but you'd been so tired when you'd gotten out of bed that Monday, despite sleeping off your all-nighter all weekend long. You'd gone to Professor Asshole's class in sweats, no big deal, and had figured you'd have a chance to make yourself decent before Baekhyun's class during lunch break. No dice. Asshole had assigned a gi-huge-ic project due next class, which was so unreasonably soon that you'd spent all lunch break working on it, Baekhyun out of your mind completely.

And now it was too late to change.

You sunk low in your seat, early for once, sitting with the other students waiting for Baekhyun to arrive. You expected to just get neglected as you were every other day-- no one ever talked to you-- socially awkward, remember?-- but then a very cute, very not-a-figment-of-your-overactive-imagination guy showed up at your desk. You blinked a few times, realizing he'd said 'hi' and that he was also the same guy who'd wished you luck the other day when Baekhyun had made you stay after class.

He was cute. Did you already mention that?

"Hi!" You said. Oh God, you sounded too perky. Like Flo from Progressive on steroids. 'Roid rage Flo.

_Oh my God why are you thinking about Flo from Progressive when a cute boy is trying to speak to you?_

"It's Y/N, right?" The boy asked, seemingly undeterred by your Flo voice. Maybe it hadn't been as bad as you thought? Either way, he pointed at the usually empty seat beside you and asked, "Can I sit here?"

 _... what?_ "Um, yeah. Yeah!" Why did you have to say it twice?? "Yes."

He smiled at you. "My name's Yixing. Nice to meet you, Y/N. You're the scholarship girl, right?" You nodded helplessly. "Wow. You must be, like, a genius or something. Maybe you can help tutor me." You were pretty sure he was joking. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking: what exactly did you do to Professor Byun to make him hate you so much?" At the look on your face, he quickly added, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

You shook your head. "No, I just..." It's just that, he really doesn't dislike me, he got me off like four times on Friday and asked me what my favorite movies were while we spooned until sunrise. "I'm always late, I guess."

He laughed at that. "You are." He looked like he was going to say more when Baekhyun walked into the room, apologizing for his tardiness to his class. Yixing straightened in his desk and pulled out his notebook, completely innocent and harmless. But when Baekhyun's eyes slid over to your seat, they slid right past you and locked on him, then on your blush, then on him again.

_Well. At least he hasn't noticed my sweatpants._

You looked over at Yixing to see if he'd noticed. He shifted uncomfortably. Shit. You eyed Baekhyun, hoping to telepathically tell him to stop glaring at the nice boy who didn't care that you sounded like Flo from Progressive.

"Y/N Y/L/N." His voice was like a wave over the already-silent classroom. You knew what was coming. "Come see me after class."

You sunk even lower in your seat. Beside you, Yixing shook his head. "Do you want me to say something to the dean about him?" He asked quietly once Baek had turned his back and had started writing on the board. "I mean, you weren't even late this time. You didn't even do anything wrong."

You shook your head. "Try telling him that," you grumbled. Yixing gave a sympathetic nod before returning to his notes, and that was that.

You were well and truly screwed.

* * *

The door seemed to slam behind Yixing, the last to leave the room. "I can wait outside of the door if you want," he'd offered. "That way, he can't take too long."

You'd shaken your head. "It's fine." You didn't want Yixing to hear... whatever it was Baekhyun had to say.

And now you were sitting at your desk, in sweatpants, in trouble with your Korean professor who was also your semi-boyfriend. And you weren't exactly sure why.

Baekhyun crossed his arms. "Come up to my desk, Y/N," he said flatly. You felt your cheeks burn. You felt major deja vu but didn't think it was the time to comment.

You averted your eyes from him. "I don't want to, " you mumbled, looking at the floor. He was silent, and you pictured him up there, fuming, mad at you for God knew why. This was it. He was done with you. You should have expected it from the start-- he was too attractive, too charming. Of course, even if he'd always wanted _you_ to break _his_ heart, it had always been bound to be the other way around. He would break yours, and he would do it right now.

"Y/N." His soft voice came from right beside you. You jumped and looked up at him, rising to your feet, clutching worriedly at your jacket zipper for something to fidget with. _Oh God. Here it comes_ , you thought. "Baby, look at me," he said.

You didn't know what else to do, so you obeyed. "Why were you flirting with Yixing?"

Your jaw dropped. _Dropped_. "Baek, are you... jealous?" you asked incredulously. It seemed impossible-- _I mean, he's a fucking masterpiece, and I'm... I'm..._ But he said nothing. "Oh my God, are you serious right now? Like. _Serious_?"

You felt a grin breaking out on your face. He pouted.

"It's not funny!" He said, but you were shaking your head, laughing now. This gorgeous, model-like boy was jealous that your classmate had talked to you. Was this real life?

"It's hysterical," you said.

"Is not." He insisted, and he grabbed your hand. "Look at you, can you blame me? You're the cutest. Someone's gonna come along and steal you away someday. I was thinking about it all weekend. How pretty you are. How it's impossible that you've never dated anyone. Have you really never dated anyone?"

You shook your head. "Have you met me?" Ignoring all of the stuff about you being beautiful, which was bullshit, you were still the most socially awkward person to ever live. "Of course I haven't. Look at me," you said, gesturing to your sweatpants.

At that, Baekhyun made a face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Was he really going to make you detail all of your flaws? You shifted uncomfortably. "Well. First off, Baek, I'm wearing sweatpants. Second-hand sweatpants. With holes in the hems. Really glamorous, huh? Makes all the boys swoon." He made a face at your attitude.

"Sweatpants are just clothes," he said. "You can change into a dress in a second and make any guy lose his mind, I promise. And for the record, you look good in whatever you wear."

Man, he was either out of his mind or pranking you.

You shook your head again. "That's not even true," you said. "I'm-- well, I'm subpar, to put it nicely. Really. Look at me, Baek. I mean--" You inhaled. "I mean, I'm-- I'm so pathetic I'm seeking validation from my goddamn professor."

His eyes flashed. "Stop calling me that," he said, and his voice wasn't harsh, but it was stern. "And you are not pathetic. Or subpar. I told you, you're beautiful. Beyond beautiful."

You closed your eyes. "I'm sorry about Yixing," you said quietly. "I mean. Sorry that you thought we were flirting. I didn't mean for it to look like that. He's just a nice guy, alright?"

When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you, all traces of frustration gone from earlier, his eyes filled only with concern and what could only be described as affection. Affection. For you.

"I'm sorry for getting jealous," he muttered, and he was blushing a bit. Suddenly overtaken by emotion, you leaned over your desk and kissed him once, softly. He kissed you back and then pulled away, smirking. "I should've known better. He's not as hot as me."

Baek grinned at you before dancing away, idiot that he was. But you couldn't help but smile.

* * *

The rest of the week passed slowly, slowly. Time seemed to move like it knew that you were anticipating what would happen on the upcoming Friday. The two of you hadn't discussed anything, but it seemed an unspoken agreement that you had a date on Friday night.

But when Friday night finally arrived, you sat around in your dorm room for hours, alone. Chanyeol had gone out to catch up with a friend last minute, telling you not to wait up, leaving you sitting on your bed, desolate, thinking that maybe you were a dork and unspoken plans equaled no plans in Baekhyun's mind.

You stewed that way for several hours, before the texts started to arrive.

[Baby I'm sorry we couldn't do anything tonight. I wanted to take you out but something came up.] - Professor Byun

Your face broke into a smile the second you read his text. Hell yeah! Unspoken plans _were_ plans! You weren't a dork! And what's more-- you were 'baby'!

You texted him that it was okay, and maybe you could do something with him this weekend. His response:

[Your Sunday belongs to me now.] - Professor Byun

You grinned again at your phone, but this time, a warmth between your legs accompanied it. You hated to admit it, but you liked it when guys took control, so long as they respected you when they did it. And since you couldn't imagine Baekhyun ever disrespecting you...

Before you could reply, like he could sense that you were getting turned on, he text:

[I miss the way you tasted.] - Professor Byun

[And the little sounds you made when I hit your g-spot.] - Professor Byun

[Fuck.] - Professor Byun

 _Fuck_ was right. You squeezed your legs together at the thought of him getting turned on. Was he getting as worked up as you were? You didn't know how to ask. Instead you typed, with shaking hands, _What are you wearing?_ and sent it.

It only took a second for him to reply.

[Jesus Christ, Y/N.] - Professor Byun

[I'm supposed to be catching up with an old friend, but you're trying to get me to sext you? You're such a bad influence.] - Professor Byun

[... give me a second.] - Professor Byun

Give him a second? What did that mean? You squeezed your thighs together again. Several minutes went by, and you were starting to think that he'd forgotten about you when your phone vibrated.

You gasped when you saw what he'd sent you.

The picture had you salivating. The warmth between your legs flared as you pored over the image, tapping on it to enlarge it. Baekhyun was reclining on a bed, shirt off, pants unzipped and dick out and hard in his hand. Your pulse fluttered. The picture was perfect-- you'd never understood sexting before but _holy shit, holy shit._

[Wish you were here.] - Professor Byun

[I'd fuck you so hard you'd come in to class on Monday still limping.] - Professor Byun

You couldn't breathe. Quickly, you hopped up to lock your bedroom door and then returned to your bed, kicking off your pants and getting back onto the soft pile of blankets. You could feel how wet you were as your thighs brushed together. You stifled a small moan at the sensation.

Your phone dinged again, and you saw another image from him. His pants and boxers are gone, and his dick is impossibly hard, leaking precum against his stomach as he bit his lip in the background.

[All for you.] - Professor Byun

Your hand found its way past the waistband of your panties, and you started to lightly circle your clit. You knew you should respond, but your fingers were shaking. With your free hand, slowly, you managed to type, _You're so fucking hot._

Before you could manage to shy out of it, you pressed send.

You went back to looking at the second picture, focusing in on his face as you rubbed at the most sensitive part of your body. That face had been between your legs. That face had gotten you off with its tongue alone. Oh my God.

[Send me a picture.] - Professor Byun

Your heart stammered. Send him a what? You stopped touching yourself momentarily, biting your lip, but then you reasoned that it was only fair. He'd send you two. He deserved at least one.

It took you a few minutes after taking off your panties and shirt to find a good position, but eventually you took a good snap, with your fingers in your pussy and your eyes closed as you moaned. You hesitated to send it to him, but then you thought about him jerking himself off, in his apartment you assumed, waiting for a pic of you. You pressed send.

You got a reply almost instantly.

[HOLY FUCKING SHIT, Y/N.] - Professor Byun

[YOU'RE SO FUCKING SEXY.] - Professor Byun

The praise went straight to your core. You moaned even louder, not caring who heard you as you experimentally dipped one finger inside of your body and pumped it in and out. Shit, that felt good-- not as good as when  _he'd_ done it, but good nonetheless. You were definitely getting off tonight.

[You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now. Jesus.] - Professor Byun

God, you could practically hear his voice, pulsating through your body like a drug. You wanted to call him, needed to call him--

Your phone was ringing. The sudden shock of it made your heart splutter, but when you checked the screen, it was him. He must have been thinking the same thing as you. You picked up, and the second you did, he was talking.

"I am going to  _hell_ for what I'm thinking about you," he said with no preamble. You went back to rubbing yourself, but you couldn't stifle a little giggle at the tone of his voice. You didn't know what to say to that-- weren't sure exactly what you were doing-- so you said nothing. "Are you as turned on right now as I am?"

 _Probably more._ "Maybe," you teased, but the teasing came out all breathy and desperate as your climax started to build.

"That's my girl," he said to you, for the second time. You liked it even more than the first.  _Am I your girl?_ You wanted to ask.  _Are we together? Dating?_

  _Not the time, Y/N._

"Baek," you expelled as you rubbed your clit a little harder, a little faster. Your climax was building, and you so wanted to get there while you could hear his voice. "I'm getting close," you told him breathily.

"Fuck." The word was a short curse. "Fuck, Y/N. You want to come when I'm talking to you? You want me to tell you what I want to do to you, every damn day in my classroom? You want that?"

Your moan signified that, yes, yes, you really did. 

"You have no idea what I'm gonna do to you." He said it very matter-of-fact. Arousal struck through your body in a sharp wave at it, and you almost came right there. When he kept speaking, you could hear his words get more and more breathy, could hear him growing sloppy in his language, and you imagined him touching himself to the thought of you. "I'm gonna bend you over my desk and fuck you so hard after class someday. Fuck, everyday. You're gonna hide under my desk and suck me off while I give lectures. Fuck, baby,  _fuck..."_

"Keep talking," you gasped, your heart racing. You were so, so close. So close! All you needed was for him to say the right thing--

He moaned. He moaned, and just like that, you were coming, gasping and whimpering, coming harder than you ever had on your fingers before.  _Oh my God oh my GOD._ The sound worked itself into your bones, shaking your insides and making your orgasm come a thousand times stronger than every before. You knew, you knew:  _I want that. I want to hear that. I want to hear that so many more times._

"Baek," you struggled to say, but he didn't reply, he just moaned again, and then there were a few moments of silence, with only heavy panting on both ends of the line. You closed your eyes and let your body relax, feeling as if you'd just melted, but liking it way more than you should have.  Your heart seemed to thrum a steady rhythm, counting the beats before he spoke.

"Fuck, Y/N," was all he said, but it said it all. And so did your reaction, for that matter. You could hear his approval, his affection, and you wanted more more more of it. Lying in your bed after one of the best orgasms of your life, you couldn't convince yourself that you should stop this game in its tracks, even though you knew you were playing with fire. More than ever, you knew it.

You were too attached. You hadn't even meant to get involved with him, but now he had a naked picture on his phone of you. And  _you liked it._

You shook your head at yourself. You weren't this kind of girl. Not the kind of girl who sexted her professor, not the kind of girl who liked it. You were in way over your head.  _You're in so much trouble, Y/N,_ you told yourself.

"Yeah," you said softly, and you weren't sure who you were agreeing with: him, or the voice in your head.

Maybe both.


	9. Disappear

You saw the texts as you stumbled to shut off your phone alarm the next morning.

[Come to class early.] - Professor Byun

[WAY early.] - Professor Byun

Your heart pounding, you sat up in your bed, pulling your blankets against your chest. "What?" You muttered, fear starting to settle in. Why? Why did you have to come to class early? Was he going to break up with you?

Across the room, Chanyeol squinted at you. "You okay?" He asked. You didn't respond.

[Why?] - Y/N

You got an answer almost immediately. 

[I need to see what you sent me last night in person.] - Professor Byun

Your heart spluttered.  _Oh._ You didn't realize that Chanyeol was behind you until you heard him asking, "Is everything okay?"

With a small squeal, you flung your phone across the room, panicking that he'd see who you were texting. "I'm-- everything's--" You spluttered over your words before looking at him critically. "Wait. Weren't you supposed to be meeting with an old friend?"

Chanyeol pulled a face. "Something came up with his girlfriend," he said, rolling his eyes. "He had to call her or something. Some sort of family emergency. We still chilled after, but I decided to come home."

You tried to focus on your friend. Sehun would want you to focus on friendships, not your illicit relationship with your professor, right? Right.

Wait.  _Sehun._

"AW, FUCK!"

You jumped out of bed, running after the phone you'd flung away, desperate for it to tell you something you knew it wouldn't say. You'd ignored Sehun's texts the other day so you could respond to them when you were in a better place emotionally (Thursday had been a rough day-- your parents had harassed you again), and  _your dumb ass had forgotten to respond._

Not only that, but YOU'D STOOD HIM UP FOR YOUR THURSDAY APPOINTMENT.

How the hell had you forgotten? You looked down at your phone in dismay. The most recent text got your heart working with guilt.

[Y/N, please. Call me. I'm worried and I don't want to contact your parents and get you in trouble.] - Sehun

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you were cursing, running your hands through your hair. How could you have let this happen? You knew how. You'd allowed your mind to get taken over with Baekhyun, idiot that you were, and other people were paying the price. How could you be so dumb? You read the other texts Sehun had sent, from most recent to least.

[Y/N, it's Thursday night and you aren't here, and you haven't texted. Are you alright? I'm getting extremely concerned.] - Sehun

[Hey, are you running late for our Thursday session? It's thirty past and you're not in the waiting room.] - Sehun

[Y/N, are we still on for Thursday?] - Sehun

You felt Chanyeol's hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, you're freaking me out, are you okay?"

You felt tears burn in your eyes as you looked up at him. Hot, shameful tears. "No, I'm not," you said. "You remember how I told you, that I've got a therapist and, you know, family issues?"

Chanyeol nodded.

"Well, I--" 

A new text came in. This one from Sehun again.

[Y/N, I'm having trouble sleeping. Please just let me know you're okay.] - Sehun

Your heart clenched as you checked the time. Six in the morning. That was normal for a college student to get up for classes, but for a professional therapist? He shouldn't be awake at that hour. He must be worried sick.

"I'm sorry, let me just--" You said to Chanyeol, but you cut yourself off as you shook your head and started dialing Sehun's number. You had to call him ASAP. Explaining could wait.

He answered on the first ring. "Y/N?" His voice was desperate. "Y/N, is that you?"

"Sehun," you breathed, and you shut the bathroom door, locking yourself in so Chanyeol wouldn't overhear your conversation, even though you weren't sure why. You were just calling your therapist, after all. "Sehun, I--"

"Do you have  _any_ idea how worried I've been?" He interrupted, sounding genuinely angry for the first time you could remember. Even when you'd thought he'd hated you with his natural glare and all that, he'd never seemed so angry. "I was about to call your professors."

 _Your professors._ Your stomach twisted. Your brain tried to fathom Sehun calling Baekhyun-- you knew they were friends, so you figured that's who he'd call first, he knew you were taking Korean-- and you almost vomited. You weren't sure what Baekhyun had told Sehun about your relationship, if he'd told him anything at all. At first, when he'd first started blackmailing you, you'd been sure that Sehun would take Baek's side, but now you weren't so sure. You weren't so sure about anything.

"You can't," you blurted, and you instantly wanted to kick yourself. After giving this man so much worry,  _that's_ what you had to say?

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Are you serious right now?" He demanded. "I've been panicking about you since last Wednesday-- and it's now Monday, for the record-- and that's what you have to say, that I can't call your professors?" You cowered from the phone. "Do I need to remind you that I'm friends with your Korean professor?" No, he really didn't. "Y/N, I was worried you'd-- you'd--"

"I'm sorry," you said faintly into the receiver, hoping to cut him off, but he wouldn't be stopped.

"I was worried you'd hurt yourself again," Sehun said, and his voice was considerably softer. There was a moment's silence, and then he said, "I'm sorry for losing my temper. It was extremely unprofessional. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Why the hell was  _he_ apologizing? "No,  _I'm_ sorry," you said. "I'm sorry for worrying you. I was..." I was fucking around with your friend? "I was busy."

For a moment, Sehun said nothing. Then: "Well, I'm glad to hear that." He didn't sound glad. He sounded like he was being strangled. "But next time, please remember to respond to my texts, or let me know if you're going to miss an appointment."

You had to force your voice to leave your throat. "I will," you said, your voice a small croak. "Sehun, I'm really sor--"

"It's fine," he cut you off. There was another sharp silence. "I've got to go back to sleep now, Y/N. I'll see you Thursday."

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "Okay," you said, your voice tiny. "I'm sor--"

There was a sharp click as he hung up on you.

* * *

You knew Chanyeol meant well, asking you what had happened and why you looked so down. But what were you supposed to say? _I think I pissed off my therapist and hurt his feelings by ignoring him so that I could fuck my professor instead?_ As fucking  _if._ You tried to assuage his concerns best you could with your vague one word answers, but you knew he wasn't having any of it. He kept looking at you worriedly all throughout Professor Asshole's class, and as much as you tried to smile comfortingly at him, you knew you just looked disturbed. 

You rushed back to your dorm during lunch break to eat and change for Korean, and he followed you. Not, like, in a creepy way, but almost as if he were a puppy who could sense you weren't feeling well. He didn't say anything though-- he seemed to have figured out that you would tell him what you would tell him, and nothing he could say or ask would change that.

"I have to get changed," you announced, subdued, as he locked the dorm door behind you. He looked at you funny, so you added, "I hate this outfit. I can't wear it for another second. If you want to eat without me, that's fine."

Chanyeol shook his head. "I'll make pasta. Don't take too long. It'll be ready when you come out."

You sighed.

He was too good for you.

* * *

You arrived at Baekhyun's room thirty minutes early for class. You knocked on the door, expecting it to be locked, but it swung slightly open, and you heard him call, "Y/N?"

You couldn't help the butterflies that danced in your tummy at the sound of him saying your name. You took a deep breath and entered the classroom, seeing that it was empty except for the two of you. You closed the door behind you, unsure if you should lock it or not. On one hand, you didn't want anyone catching the two of you doing something-- you still didn't want to be known as the girl who goes for her professor--, but on the other hand, if you locked it, when you  _un_ locked it, people would question what the two of you had been doing in a locked classroom together. 

You shook your head. You were overthinking it. You strode over to where he sat at his desk, and he stood up, his eyes glittering as he took in your skirt and blouse. He opened his mouth to say something, but you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him so that his mouth crashed into yours.

"Kiss me," you demanded, and he was more than happy to oblige. His mouth found yours with delicate kisses, but delicate was not what you wanted right then. You bit his lip and said, "More." He planted his hands on your hips, and, without a word, lifted you up and sat you on his desk. He pushed his way between your thighs, opening them up as he kissed you more feverishly, more passionately. You knew, in the back of your mind, that anyone could walk in at any minute. Instead of sobering you, the thought made you excited. You could feel Baekhyun's hardness poking at your core, and you grinded against him. 

He moaned. "Don't," he said, and he pulled slightly away from you, his hands sliding down to your smooth thighs as he looked at you with that wanton expression on his face.

"Why not?" You reached for him. "We have thirty minutes. We could be quick."

He danced away from your grasp, eyeing you again, this time critically. "I don't want to be quick. Especially not for your first time," he said. He looked at you. "Y/N, are you okay?"

Maybe too quick, you nodded. "I'm fine."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"  _Definitely too quick._ "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

You wanted to groan in frustration. You didn't want to talk about it. "Do you really want to talk about my goddamn therapist issues while you've got a hard-on?"

Baekhyun's brows furrowed. "Sehun?" He repeated. "Sehun's giving you trouble?"

You shook your head. "No, that's just it," you said. "He isn't. _I'm_ giving _him_  trouble." You reached for him again, but he just waited for you to elaborate. You sighed. "I forgot to call him, and I missed a therapy appointment. He was worried about me, and now I feel bad. That's it. I promise."

Baekhyun took a step back to you, and you felt his warmth radiating from his body. You wished he would kiss you again before it got too late and too risky. "Are you sure?" he asked.

You bit your lip. That wasn't quite all of it. You were, after all, wondering about him-- exactly what the two of you were, exactly what the two of you were even _doing._ But how were you supposed to ask? You nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure." Feeling exposed, you closed your legs and hopped off of his desk. 

Which was good, because just as you got your feet on the ground, the door opened, and Zhang Yixing walked in.

You whipped around, a blush firing in your cheeks as Baekhyun quickly took a seat in his chair to hide his erection. Yixing noticed you after a moment, pausing as he set his stuff down in the seat next to yours. He noticed your bag at your seat and looked up. His face turned into a question mark when he saw you standing behind Baekhyun's desk.

"Th-Thank you for clearing that up for me, Professor Byun," you stammered, offering a little bow.

"Anytime," Baekhyun played along. "If you have any other questions, come see me at my office. My hours are on your syllabus."

You bowed again. "Thank you, sir," you said, and you started to walk away, but found his hand catching onto your arms behind the desk. Your eyes shot to Yixing, but the boy had looked away, perhaps in embarrassment from his previous gaping. Quietly, Baekhyun whispered, "Stay behind after class. I want to take you to my flat."

Your stomach flipped. That could only mean one thing. You nodded and went to your seat, greeting Yixing and making small talk with him as the rest of your classmates sporadically filed in.

Baekhyun did not stand up from behind his desk the entire lecture.

* * *

Baekhyun's car was just as nice as you remembered it, but you couldn't focus on how nice the heated seat felt on your back for the life of you as Baekhyun drove you to apartment.

Were the two of you about to have sex? You didn't think him inviting you over could mean anything else. Were you seriously about to lose your virginity to your professor? Your  _professor?_ Every time you started to freak out about it, you looked over at him, and he smiled at you, a soft, comforting smile that reminded you of that time in his office when you'd first kissed him, and how sweet he'd looked and how gentle he'd been.

"Are you hungry?" He asked you as he drove. "I'm not far from the school, so we should be there in few minutes. I can make you dinner if you want."

Dinner... and then sex? Or were you the only one thinking about sex? You couldn't be. He'd been hiding behind his desk the entire lecture, even if his hard-on was gone now. That, combined with your sexting, you knew had to mean he was thinking about sleeping with you. Why was he asking about dinner?

"I ate lunch with my roommate," you said. "I don't think I can eat again so soon." Which was the truth. You had too many butterflies in your stomach to be eating anything right then.

"Dessert, then?" Baekhyun asked, and he wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed out loud. How could anyone so handsome also be so... cute?

You gently smacked his shoulder. "Maybe," you said, and he grinned at you.

The two of you pulled up to a gleaming, crystalline structure of a building, towering over the city and glowing in the afternoon sun. He cut the engine in a parking space directly in front of it, labelled 'reserved.' He smirked at you when he saw you notice it, and you shook your head. Cuteness, gone. Enter: cocky bastard. 

"This is your apartment building?" You asked, gesturing at the glowing structure. It was beautiful. Baekhyun nodded.

He took your hand and led you inside, ushering you through the lobby, nodding at people who greeted him, "Hello, Mr. Byun." He led you to the elevator, which gave you deja vu to the night when he'd taken you to the rooftop, and the two of you had kissed and touched until sunrise. You felt a blush on your cheeks just thinking about it.

As the two of you filed in the elevator, he smirked at you, and you knew you weren't the only one thinking about his head between your thighs, those sinful lips making you feel things you'd never before felt. You watched as Baekhyun pressed the button labelled "PENTHOUSE", and you had to say, you weren't surprised. You knew he was rich, after all, and you were starting to think that you were the only second-best, average thing in his life. Everything else was glittering.

The elevator opened up with a  _ding,_ into a sparkling kitchen that left you breathless. You raced out of the elevator and whirled around in a circle, taking in his apartment. Everything was glimmering, shimmering, richly beautiful. You gaped at his TV, at his stove, at his everything. You heard him laugh, and you whirled around again, finding him leaning against the kitchen countertop and watching you with a grin. 

"See something you like?" He asked.

His grin was infectious. You made your way over to him, and on tiptoes, you pecked him on the lips and said, "Oh, definitely." He smiled against your lips and murmured, "Me too."

* * *

You were making out with him on the couch when it happened. You didn't know if your kissing would have lead to sex or not-- you never got to find out-- but the two of you  _were_ intimately involved, with both of your shirts off and his hands up your skirt. Your lips were swollen from kissing and you could feel him hardening beneath you; you were just about to grind your hips against him when you heard the noise.

At first, it didn't register as the elevator  _ding._ You just heard the high-pitched noise and sat up, looking confused around the apartment for the source of the sound. Baekhyun followed, but he rose to his feet, recognizing the sound and standing almost immediately, shirtless, his hand taking yours. You looked up at him in confusion, but there was no time to ask him what was going on. The elevator doors opened, and you heard him speaking.

"Baek! I know you're home; I saw your car. I have to talk to you--"

He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on the two of you. You instantly felt like you were going to be sick. Beside you, Baekhyun cursed.

 _Of all the people in this world,_ you thought,  _God, really, of all the people in this world?_ He  _had to find us out?_

Oh Sehun's eyes locked with yours, and you knew you were fucked.


	10. Just a Lie

You were the one to break the silence. His name came from your lips like a plea, your voice a soft, breaking whisper.

"Sehun," you cried, and you were rising from the couch, shaking, clutching at yourself because you felt like you were about to fall apart. The words came from your mouth at an uncontrollable, rapid pace. "Don't be mad at me. Sehun, don't be mad. Please don't be mad, please don't be mad, please don't be--"

Sehun opened his mouth to speak, but Baekhyun's hand squeezing yours sent you into a fit of hysteria. Inexplicably, you freaked out-- you pulled yourself away from him, tears burning from your eyes out of nowhere, and you tripped over yourself to get away from his side, like if you separated yourself you would no longer be guilty. And you really, really didn't want to be guilty.

You started sobbing.

Sehun rushed over to you, ignoring Baekhyun for half a second as he took your hands in his. You shook, your entire body quivering, and as panic overtook your body, you lost all sense of reason and flung yourself onto Sehun, clinging to him like you would die if you let go, regardless of the fact that you were half naked and he was, in fact, your therapist.

He didn't push you away as you cried into his shirt. It took a second, but his hands did smooth over your back comfortingly as you repeated, "Don't be mad at me, don't be mad, don't be mad, don't be mad..."

Sehun looked over you at his friend, and although you couldn't see, you could feel the fire of his glare, the weight and the anger of it. "What the  _hell_ is wrong with you," he spat at Baekhyun. "What the  _hell_ \--"

You heard Baekhyun try to speak. "Sehun--"

But he was cut off. "No, shut up. Shut  _up._ For the love of God, couldn't you just leave alone one girl in your whole life?  _One_ girl? That's all I fucking asked of you!" Sehun's hands found your shoulders and he pulled back so he could look you in the eye. But you wouldn't meet his gaze, couldn't meet his gaze, you were so ashamed. "Y/N, how did this happen, sweetie?" He asked, his voice low, insistent, with all of the poison he'd injected into it as he yelled at Baekhyun gone. 

You couldn't speak. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you quaked. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, and he looked down at them, then back up at your face. "Y/N--"

"It was my fault."

It was the first sentence he'd managed to get out since Sehun had found you out. It was strong, his voice without falter, and although it got Sehun's gaze snapping back over to him, you just couldn't look at Baekhyun.

"Of course it was your fucking fault," Sehun spat. To your surprise, he pulled you against him again, hugging you to his chest as you cried even harder at the sound of him raising his voice. Everything felt surreal. It felt as if your life since Baekhyun had first spoken to you had been a dream, a convincing, absorbing dream, and you were only then waking up. "You think this-- this  _innocent,_ sweet, hapless girl is even  _capable_ of-- of--"

"Well, it was my fault, but I haven't been fucking  _raping_ her, so she is somewhat capable of whatever you're suggesting." Baekhyun's voice was like ice. No, like cold stone, cutting through flesh and stabbing into hearts and lungs and livers. "I forced her into being with me. But I never made her touch me. That was all her choice."

Sehun gripped onto you tighter. "Is this true, Y/N?" He asked quietly, so quietly that you weren't sure Baekhyun could hear. "Y/N, you can tell me anything. I'll believe you. If he touched you--"

You broke away from him all of the sudden, shaking your head, clutching at yourself once more. "No, no, no, no, no," you muttered, shaking your head. "No, no, no--"

"Y/N," Sehun tried, but Baekhyun spoke again.

"I bribed her into dating me," he said. You keeled over, and then sat on the ground, curling up in a little ball and shutting your eyes, rocking back and forth like a child. "I told her that I would tell my supervisors that she'd tried to seduce me. Of course, with her a scholarship student, and me as... who I am, they'd take my word over hers, and she'd be shamed or even kicked out. The threat was enough to get her with me."

 _Stop, stop, stop,_ you thought. He was saying everything so coldly, so mechanically, you almost didn't recognize his voice. But he didn't stop.

"She hated me, I think. But then something must have changed, because she kissed me."

"Stop." It wasn't you thinking it this time, or even you saying it. Sehun had spoken. "Stop it, Baek. Stop."

He still didn't stop.

"And you know what? I fucking kissed her back. And she liked it."

 _"Stop it."_ You could hear Sehun's voice shaking, and you looked up. Almost against your will, your eyes drifted over to where Baekhyun stood, and you saw him, still as stone, glaring, his hair mussed, looking like a detached, cruel god. "Stop it before you say something you can't take back."

And cruel, he was. Because he kept going.

"I didn't make her kiss me, Sehun," he said, his voice a knife. "I didn't force her to spread her legs for me. I didn't make her like it when I ate her out. I didn't make her send me pictures of her pussy, and I didn't make her get off to pictures of my dick. She did all that by herself, didn't she?" You couldn't look away from him. It was terrible, terrible, terrible. And he'd never looked more beautiful. "And you know what? If you hadn't fucking gotten here, I probably would have fucked her. And it would have been  _all. Her. Choice."_

You shot to your feet again, but neither of the boys looked at you. They were too busy glaring at each other. 

"So did I take advantage of her? Maybe in the beginning. But me bribing her to date me isn't as fucked up as  _you_ ," Baekhyun said, his voice acid. " _You,_ lusting after your own damn patient. Wanting what's mine." Sehun flinched. "I bet you think about her when you get off, don't you? That's why you told me to stay away from her. You think about her when you get yourself off, think about her legs, her lips, her ass... I wonder how many times you've come thinking about my girl." Baekhyun smiled. "Because's  _she's mine._ Right, Y/N?"

At that, suddenly, you found your voice. You glared at Baekhyun, at the man who had absorbed the past few weeks of your life, who was your first so many things. Who was beautiful beyond measure but also making you sick.

"Fuck you," you spat, your voice strong and unwavering, solid and bold. Your words echoed through the flat as you took Sehun's hand into yours, and-- leaving your shirt behind-- you fled the scene, like murderer leaving a dead body behind.

* * *

His tongue was in your mouth, and tears were in your eyes, and your bodies were colliding like the sun and the moon, so unlikely and catastrophic. But you couldn't stop.

You were at his place. You'd been too much of a mess to go back to your own dorm and face Chanyeol, so you'd begged and cried in the shotgun seat of his car for him to take you home. And he had. He had.

You didn't know who had started it. Only that you were on his bed, rolling around with him, your hands all over his body and his hands all over yours, leaving sizzling trails of heat and taboo on your skin. You kissed him fiercely, unlike how you'd kissed Baekhyun. You wanted it to be different. Needed it to be different. 

Your body was singing, buzzing, about to overheat. Without a word, his hands found your hips and anchored there as his lips found your neck and started to suck. You moaned, and he bit into you, harder, harder, until you knew you would have marks. Your hands slid down his chest to the zipper of his jeans as his lips worked magic on your skin, moving to anew spot and sucking harder, making you whine.

"Sehun," you said, and he pulled back, his eyes shining.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and it struck you, hit you. You hid your flinch by kissing him, meeting his heavenly lips with yours, but you could hear  _him_ in your head, asking you if you were alright a million times. You shoved him flat on his back and fell over him, attacking his lips with kisses.  _Be in the present,_ you thought viciously at yourself. It was something he'd said to you himself a million times. He, Sehun. Your therapist.

Who you were currently making out with.

You pulled back, eyes lidded and reached back to unclasp your bra. He watched you with wide eyes, and it made you feel like a woman, not a girl-- a goddess, not a child. As you bra fell away from your body, you rose, his hands coming to meet you, to cup you. His mouth found your shoulder and he was sucking on the skin there, too. 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and you said nothing, nothing. He cupped your breasts lovingly, and then he bent down, trailing a line of kisses down your collarbone to between your breasts. You tilted your head back and exhaled, feeling, if only for a moment, the weight of the world come off your shoulders. You were floating, floating, floating away, in between the constraints of time and space, and suddenly you were only in this moment with him, with Sehun, and you knew you were safe and nothing hurt.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, and you tugged at the hem, telling him you wanted it off. He pulled back from your breasts, and you said, "Take off all your clothes."

He obeyed. And as he removed his shirt, his pants, his boxers, his shoes, you took of your skirt and panties and flats, leaving you bare before him. But you were not afraid, and you were not shy. Your body met his, and his hands traced constellations on your freckles, stretch marks, self-harm scars. He leaned down and kissed the hundreds of cut-scars that decorated your legs, flesh memories of darker times. Times you'd told him about at length, in the comfort of his office. You thought, as he kissed your scars, that no one knew you like he did. Not your parents, not Chanyeol, not Baekhyun.

A wave of passion over-taking you, you shoved him on his back again and fell over him, this time pressing kisses down his torso, kissing his hipbones, your hands smoothing over his thighs. You looked up, and yours eyes met his for half a second before you went down on him.

He let out the most beautiful whining noise as you took his dick into your mouth. You knew you didn't know what you were doing, but you didn't think it mattered. You'd heard girls at highschool detail the experience, and how difficult could it be, really?

"Y/N," Sehun inhaled, and you hollowed your cheeks, starting to bob your head up and down on him. Your hands squeezed his thighs, your nails digging into the soft flesh as you sucked him off. "Y/N-- ah, _fuck."_

You smiled at the sound of him cursing. You changed your angle, taking him deeper into your throat and doing your best to suppress your gag reflex. His fingers thread through your hair, and you could feel him start to pull and shake the faster your pace got.

"Y/N-- Y/N--" He was gasping. "Stop, I'm gonna--"

You pulled off of him, and instantly, his hands found his member. You watched as he held it tight to keep from coming, fascinated by the pink, dripping tip. You could taste only him in your mouth, and you leaned down again and kissed him, wondering if he'd taste himself when you did. You kissed him, biting his lip, tangling his tongue with your own, and he mumbled against your mouth, "I don't have a condom."

You kissed him harder, stronger. It didn't matter. You didn't care. "I'm on the pill," you said, and it was true, and you'd never been happier. 

Sehun directed you to get on your back, and you allowed him to position your body the way that he wanted. Your lower regions were throbbing, aching with want, and your heart was crying out, and your lips were warm and hot and swollen and you wanted him. Wanted him to fuck away the pain and the confusion. 

Sehun's hands were gentle on your body as he positioned himself above you. It occurred to you that he knew you were a virgin; you'd shared the information with him before. That was why he was touching you so delicately. Your heart ached. He positioned himself at your entrance before meeting your eyes with his.

"You sure?" He asked. You nodded, and he said, "Say it, Y/N. Say it out loud." With anyone else, you would have thought he wanted you to dirty talk him, but you knew he wanted the consent, wanted to hear the words, needed to.

"Fuck me, Sehun," you said softly. "Fuck me, please.  _Please."_

Your hands trailed down his back, and his forehead met yours as he slid into you, slowly. You closed your eyes at the burning pain, and you heard your breaths faltering as you waited for it to go away. Sehun was still, his lips only pressing against your forehead as the two of you waited, as the pain slowly turned to pleasure. You felt so  _full._

You arched your hips, and he seemed to realize that that meant he was good to move. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he started to fuck you, his hips moving with yours to create poetry. You felt fire flow and flow through your body, and you were drowning in him, drowning in the things he was making you feel.

The nighttime grew, and grew, and died around your bodies as the sun rose and the two of you caught on fire.

* * *

"Y/N Y/L/N. Stay after class."

You closed your eyes and felt your heart drop out of your chest. It was the next day, and you were in _his_ class, hoping to God that he'd ignore you, that the two of you could pretend that nothing had ever happened. But no. He was singling you out, again. Again.

Yixing was incensed. "Y/N, seriously. Let me report him to the dean," he muttered, his fists clenching as he looked over at you, and how pathetically afraid you must have seemed.

"No, it's..." You couldn't even finish the sentence. It wasn't fine, and you knew it. You knew it, Yixing knew it, and you thought, Baekhyun surely had to know it too. Whatever the two of you had been doing, it was _over._ You'd awoken from the spell he'd put you under. You weren't  _that_ girl, you'd never been. He'd somehow enchanted you, but that was over.  It was over. 

Yixing caught onto your desperation. "You can't even finish the sentence," he said. "Y/N, the dean won't mind if I talk to him. He's an old family friend, okay? I'm sure he'll listen to what I have to say."

And you were sure he would, but something in your gut was telling you to keep your mouth shut. If you told on Baekhyun, something bad would happen, your gut just knew it...

You shook your head. "Let me try to deal with it one last time," you said to Yixing, and you meant it. If you couldn't get Baekhyun to leave you alone after this, then you would report him to the dean with Yixing. Even if that meant coming clean. Even if it meant taking a risk, what with Baekhyun being a benefactor and all that. You couldn't live like this.

Yixing didn't seem happy, but he nodded. And when class was dismissed, he helped you gather your stuff and again volunteered to wait outside for you, but you dismissed him. 

"Here's my phone number," you said, and you scrawled it on his hand. "We should hang out sometime, okay? But just trust me, I've got this." He'd hesitated, but after a little more prodding from you, he was gone, and you were alone with Baekhyun. The slam of the door sounded like the hinges closing on a coffin.

"Come to my desk." It was a command. Your legs mechanically obeyed, and you kept your head down, remembering your mission even though you were so afraid you felt you might faint.

"Professor, I--" You began, but you faltered when you looked up and saw the way he was looking at you. Like he wanted to eat you alive. Like he was fucking you in his mind, like he was about to grab you and make love to you on his desk.

 _Make love._ You winced. You were still sore from sex with Sehun...

"Those are some peculiar bruises you have," Baekhyun remarked, pointing at your neck. Your heart stammered. Your scarf, your scarf--- where the hell had it gone? You looked around for it wildly, and found it dangling from his fingers. When had he removed it?

"Professor--"

Baekhyun shook his head. "Don't," he said fiercely. He planted both of his hands on his desk and leaned forward, glaring into you. "Listen, Y/N. I am neither stupid nor blind. I know exactly what those bruises are, and I know exactly who you got them from." 

Your heart jolted. He couldn't. He couldn't.

He picked up on the look on your face. He scoffed. "What, did you think I wouldn't figure it out? They'd be from either me or Sehun. And since you left before we could do anything _,_ I'm  _guessing_ that you fucked your therapist."

You couldn't breathe. But he wasn't done.

"Now, unless you want me to report Sehun to his supervisors, here is what we're going to do," Baekhyun said, his eyes narrow as he straightened up and walked around his desk, closer to you, causing you to stumble backwards in fear. He paused at the fear in your eyes, but only physically. "Our arrangement will still stand," he said. "You will still see me whenever I tell you to see me. If I tell you to come to dinner with me, you will come to dinner with me. I will not touch you unless you explicitly ask me to." His eyes glinted at that, and you almost saw a flash of the kindness that had enchanted you in the first place, but no, it was gone almost as soon as you'd seen it. "You will tell no one about what we are doing. Not even your beloved Sehun. Not unless you want me to get him fired and locked up for fucking his sweet, susceptible patient."

You were shaking. "You bastard," you whispered. He cocked his head and smiled.

"Aw baby, you get me so hard when you talk like that," he said. He eyed you up and down. "Take a shower and then meet me in my office tonight. I don't want him on you when you're with me, understand?"

You felt tears well in your eyes. "Fuck you," you said to him again, and he ignored it. "Fuck you, Baekhyun, fuck you," you said, and then, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, you fled his presence.

_Break my heart._


	11. You've Never Loved Me

Your phone kept going off, and every  _ding_ was like a bullet to the brain. You flinched noticeably at the ringtone, so noticeably that even Chanyeol, who was clearly trying to mind his own business, had to say something.

"Y/N. Seriously. You've been really weird lately, are you sure you're okay?" He asked you as the two of you studied in your dorm that night. You hesitated for only a moment, considering whether or not you could tell him what was going on with you. Obviously, you couldn't tell him the whole thing, but to get some of it off of your chest would be amazing.

You sighed. "No," you said finally. "I'm not okay." You shoved your foreign literature textbook away from you with finality and slouched back in your seat, looking away from your roommate. You hadn't know him for that long at all-- he'd come into your life the same day you'd first met Baekhyun, you realized with a pang-- but you felt so at ease in his presence. Almost too at ease. You were constantly worried you tell him more than you should, and you would get yourself in trouble. Now, it was a million times worse-- you didn't care about Baekhyun getting in trouble, but Sehun? You would kill yourself if he lost his job because of you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Chanyeol asked carefully, peering at you over his own work. "I know you're really not big on sharing, but you really look like you need it."

You did. You sighed again. "I know I do," you said, "and I'd love to talk about it with you, but some of it, I can't. I'll get people I care about in trouble. Does that make any sense?" Chanyeol nodded, his eyes cautious.

"Are you safe?" He asked. "No one's hurting you, right?"

 _Only my Korean professor._ "Right," you said, and it sounded like a falsehood, even to your own ears. Your tone seemed to set off red warning flags in Chanyeol's mind, and his gaze turned suspicious. "Look," you hurried to say, "no one's hitting me, so I really can't complain, can I?"

Chanyeol made a face. "People can hurt you really badly without ever hitting you, and you know it," he said pointedly. Your mind shot to your parents, and you had to admit he was right.

You looked away from him. "Long story short," you began, "I slept with someone I definitely shouldn't have slept with. And someone else knows about it and is blackmailing me because of it."

Chanyeol sucked in a breath. You looked at him. "What?" You asked. 

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "It's nothing." He eyed you. "You? Slept with someone? I thought..." He trailed off suddenly, looking embarrassed.

"You thought I was a virgin?" You supplied. Blushing, he nodded. "I was. Until about last night." You looked away from him, your own face red as you remembered it, the way your body had moved with his, the way he'd made you come over and over again until you cried and buried your face in his neck for hours. You cleared your throat. That was about as much as you could share without risking anyone, and you knew it. Your phone  _dinged_ again. You used it as an excuse to end the conversation. "I really should check that," you said, and he said nothing, just watched you with an unreadable expression on his face.

When you saw the names attached the messages, you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom so you could read them in private. Your stomach felt like it was dropping out of your body, and you felt your palms start to sweat.

First, most recent one:

[Y/N Y/L/N. Get to my office now unless you want what we discussed to become a reality.] - Professor Byun

You bit your lip to keep from dry-heaving. He really was serious, wasn't he? You'd been hoping if you ignored his commands and didn't go tonight, he would calm down and somewhat return to the man he'd been during your enchantment. But no. That man was gone, if he'd ever really existed. "Fuck," you muttered as you transferred to the other conversation, a bunch of texts from the other person, all lined up like men facing the firing squad:

[Y/N please let me know that you're okay. Please. I'm desperate. If you don't answer in ten minutes I'm driving to your dorm.] - Sehun

Before that:

[I don't mind if you hate me but I need to know that you're alright. You can report me and I'll completely understand because I deserve it but please, tell me you're okay.] - Sehun

[You were gone when I woke up, and with everything that happened, I'm panicking. Please text me so I know you're alive.] - Sehun

[Y/N, answer your phone, please. Where are you?] - Sehun

You had to call him. If only to yell at him-- what the hell was he saying, 'you can report me and I'll completely understand because I deserve it'?!? He deserved nothing of the sort, and for him to even  _think_ you would do that to him... You shook your head and hit the call button on your phone. It took a few tries for him to pick up.

"Y/N?" He sounded breathless when he answered the phone.

"Hi," you said, and your voice was small. You felt your face flush and your heart start to pound. You could've sworn you felt his skin on yours, his body in you, his hands trailing softly down your back and pulling you closer to him. You heard yourself gasp for air. "Hi," you said again.

He was silent for a moment. "Y/N--" He began, but you knew what he was going to say. You cut him off.

"Don't start," you said. "Don't you dare start with that: 'Report me because I deserve it' bullshit." Your voice seemed to have gotten stronger of its own accord. "Sehun, you're--"

"-- your goddamn therapist," he interrupted. Your heart squeezed. "And all I can think about is how goddamn beautiful you are. All I can fucking think about is how you felt in my bed and how much I wish things were different so I could touch you like that again."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Sehun," you said softly, and it was almost like you were admonishing him, breathlessly scolding him for saying things he couldn't be saying.

"I know," he said quickly. "I know how wrong it is. Believe me, I know, Y/N, I know. Do you have any idea how long I've been suppressing this?" You bit your lip. "I told myself it was never going to happen, that I'd never let it happen, but now look where we are. And I don't know what to do."

You had to be honest. "I don't know either," you whispered into the line. You didn't think you could face him again, but what choice did the two of you have? Your parents would demand a reason why if you asked to stop seeing him, and besides, could you really survive giving him up? You didn't think so.

Before you could say anything more, your phone  _dinged,_ and you felt your stomach go to ice. You knew who that was, and you knew what the price for ignoring him would be. A price you would not pay.

"I think my phone's going off," you said softly to him. "I have to go, okay? I'll call you later."

Sehun was silent for a moment. Then: "Alright." You almost hung up, then, but he added, "Y/N? Stay away from Baekhyun."

"I will," you lied, and the lie was acid in your mouth. How you wished you could. 

"I mean it," he said. "He'd never force a girl to do anything physical, but he's possessive. I think he really liked you, so that'll make it ten times harder for you to get away from him."

You could imagine.

"I'll be careful," you said quietly, and then you hung up.

Your phone dinged two more times, and you almost fell into a panic attack as you rushed from the bathroom, not bothering to tell Chanyeol where you were going, just knowing that you had better get there quickly. You looked down at your screen as you fled the dorm, and your heart constricted.

[Y/N. I mean now.] - Professor Byun

[Do not think me above getting Sehun fired.] - Professor Byun

[There's nothing I wouldn't do.] - Professor Byun

 _Yeah,_ you thought as you raced across campus.  _That's what I'm afraid of._

* * *

You collided with him as you raced to Baekhyun's office, slamming right into his body as you stared anxiously at your phone, where you'd typed,  _I'm on my way. Please don't do anything rash._

"Shit!" He exclaimed, and he caught you before you could fall backwards on your ass.

"I'm so sorry!" You groaned, and you looked up at him. He had a friendly face that put you at ease, even as you straightened your clothes from the encounter and apologized again.

"Hey, don't worry about it," the guy said, and then he squinted at your face. "Hey, are you by any chance Y/N?" He asked, and you cocked your head, forgetting about your panic for a second as confusion set in. How did he know your name?

"Y-Yes?" It sounded like a question.

He noticed your confusion. "Everyone's been talking about the cute scholarship student who hates Professor Byun," he said. "And I'm Yixing's friend, he's mentioned you a few times, too. I'm Minseok, by the way." He extended his hand for you to shake. You took it, feeling flustered.

"Nice to meet you," you said, and it took all of your willpower to ignore your phone as it  _dinged_ again and brought you back to reality.  _Baekhyun._

Minseok seemed to notice your renewed panic. "You have to be somewhere?" He asked, and you nodded. He stepped out of your way, gesturing for you to carry on. "Don't let me get in your way! I'm sure I'll see you around. It was nice to meet you, Y/N," he said.

"Nice to meet you too," you said, and you meant it.

Then, you waved a goodbye and started to run.

* * *

The door was closed, and you hesitated at it. You couldn't help but remember the only other time you'd come to his office, the time when you'd thrown yourself at him and had truly gotten yourself into this mess. After all, he'd promised you he'd never force you to touch him, and he hadn't-- you'd been the one to initiate contact. 

How you wished you could take it back.

You set your jaw. Wishing wouldn't change anything. Only action would. You just had to go in there and try to convince him to let you go, and then try and try and try again until he did. There was no other option. You would  _not_ screw Sehun over-- not when he was possibly the only person in your life to ever care for you unconditionally.

Before you could stop yourself, you knocked on Baekhyun's office door, and then, without waiting for a 'come in', pushed it open and stepped inside.

He was lounging at his desk, casual, relaxed, and his dark eyes followed you as you shut the door and then reluctantly took a seat across from him. His eyes trailed over your body slowly, raking down your hips and lingering on the marks on your neck.  _Damn it, I forgot he took my scarf off._

The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds, and then finally he said, "You know how fucked up that is, though?" He nodded at your hickies, and you shifted uncomfortably. "I can't believe you fucked your  _therapist."_

A wave of rage crashed through you. "Well,  _I_ can't believe that you're talking to me like that," you snapped. "And," you added vengefully, furious, "it's better than fucking  _you."_

At that, Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. "Sorry for you, we never actually had sex, Y/N," he said. "But do us both a favor and please refrain from pretending that you neither wanted nor consented to having sex with me. It'll be better for us both."

You glared at him.  _What a bastard. What a sick, stupid, self-absorbed asshole._ "What the hell is wrong with you?" You demanded, clenching your fists. "You were so-- so--"

"Charming?" He supplied, quirking his eyebrow again. "Well, I like to think I'm usually like that, thanks. But  _sometimes,_ when people  _piss me off,_ I get less than pleasant."

"Not to mention," you added furiously, "that your appeal as a person drops significantly."

Baekhyun stared at you. "Ouch," he muttered, and you resisted the urge to bug your eyes at him in indignation. There he was, blackmailing you worse than ever to be with him, and he was pretending to be hurt by your comebacks? How  _dare_ he?

"Why don't you just tell me what the hell you want from me?" You demanded, almost shaking in the chair by how angry you were. "And don't even  _test_ me with that 'break my heart' bullshit." His eyes flashed at that.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He countered, his voice low. 

"I mean," you shot to your feet, so done with him, so done with this, your voice acidic, "I can't break your heart if you never had one in the first place."

Baekhyun rose as well, scoffing. "Now that's rich, coming from the ice cold virgin," he said, leaning forward and getting in your face.

"Yeah?" You got in his face right back. "Say that 'virgin' part again, would you? I like it when you're fucking wrong."

Baekhyun pulled a face. "Shut up," he muttered, and you resisted the urge to roar.

"Don't you  _dare_ tell me to shut up!" You shouted, not caring that anyone could come in and discover the two of you arguing. "Honestly,  _honestly,_ you know what? I don't know  _what_ you did to get me so insane these past few weeks, but I do not appreciate it! I am not the kind of girl who fucks around with her professor! I am not anyone's bitch! And  _you do not get to tell me to shut up!"_

Baekhyun opened his mouth to retort, but you weren't done. Not even close.

"What the hell happened to you as a child to make you like this?" You demanded. "What fucking trauma do you have that's made you think you can control everyone and everything?!" You planted your hands on your hips. "You have  _no right_ to use what happened between Sehun and me as leverage. You have  _no right_ to even discuss it with me. It's none of your goddamn business. And you know why? It's because I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not your anything, and you don't own me. I can fuck who I want."

"I'm sure Sehun's supervisors will disagree," said Baekhyun. 

You stared at him for a moment, unable to even process how much he'd changed, before falling back into your chair. You shook your head. "Just tell me what you want from me," you said, seething. Maybe if you could convince him you couldn't give him what he wanted, he'd let you go.

Baekhyun shook his head. "You know what I want," he said, and you almost choked on the tears that rose in your throat.

"But  _why?"_ You cried, shot through with frustration and sadness. He'd been so sweet, and now he was a completely different person. It felt as if you'd lost a friend. "Why me? Why any of this?" You squeezed your eyes shut. "Please just leave me alone."

There was only a small gap of silence. Then: "I can't," he said, his tone sounding genuinely remorseful for it. You opened your eyes and saw he was sitting again, no longer towering over you, and his expression was far more placid.

"And why the ever-loving fuck not?" You were back to glaring. All of your emotions welled up in you, and instead of crying, you shot to your feet. "You know what? Nevermind, don't answer that. I'm sure I'll get a bullshit answer anyway, and I quite honestly don't have the patience for you any longer." You stormed over to the door, and you heard him get up.

"Y/N--" His voice was like a warning, but you were beyond caring.

You whipped around, your eyes burning. "No.  _No._ I'm leaving. And if you've ever known what it's like to care for another living being, you'll just  _let me go."_

Without another word, you burst out of his office, slamming the door behind you, only one destination on your mind.

You typed frantically into your phone as you stormed away from Baekhyun's office, halfway expecting him to grab you and pull you back in. But no, he didn't, so you were left typing,  _Are you home?_ as you raced to your dorm so you could fetch your car.

You weren't sure why you needed to see Sehun so badly, but you had to, you had to. Your stomach was burning and you were about to cry, and you were in no condition to go back to your dorm and face Chanyeol, not after you'd opened up to him. He was smart-- he'd know something bad had happened, and after what you'd told him about being blackmailed, what would happen if someone told him you'd gone to see Professor Byun? He'd put two and two together, and you'd be screwed, and more importantly, so would Sehun.

You felt your phone vibrate.

[Yes? Y/N you can't come here.] - Sehun

You felt tears sting in your eyes. 

[I need to see you.] - Y/N

[Please, Sehun.] - Y/N

There was only a short pause like a sigh as he responded.

[I'll leave the door unlocked.] - Sehun

* * *

The door was indeed unlocked. You burst into his apartment, crying hysterically, and he caught you in his arms. He shushed you as he closed the door with one hand and wrapped his arm around you. You shook, the tears coming violently, and he led you over to his couch.

"Y/N," he said, his voice pained.

"I'm fine," you said, even though you were clearly not fine. "It's just-- it's all too much." You looked over at him sitting next to you, and he withdrew his arm. You bit your lip. You wished he hadn't.

He caught the look on your face and winced. "Y/N," he started slowly, "we can't..."

Tears welled in your eyes. You'd never felt more unwanted in your life, and you went to turn away, ready to leave his apartment as quickly as you'd come, but you heard him say, " _Fuck,_ Y/N," and then his lips were on yours again.

By the time the sun came up, you were both asleep in his bed.


	12. Found Somebody Else

You woke up to the sound of him cursing. Your eyes shot open and you sat up, clutching the sheets to your chest instinctually as he sat with his head in his hands beside you. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," he kept saying, and you felt your heart clutch.

_Oh no,_ you automatically panicked,  _Baekhyun reported him. He got mad at me for walking out last night and reported him. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God._

You reached out to touch him, but he jerked away, looking over at you with tortured eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" He demanded, his voice broken, and it was not what you were expecting him to say.

You paused. "What?" You asked, your voice unsteady.

 Sehun shook his head. "Y/N, we can't do this," he said, but he didn't move away when you reached for him again. You took his hand in yours and stared down at the joining of your two bodies, your face flushing as you thought back to the night before, when he'd been inside of you and you'd screamed his name. 

"I know," you whispered.

"It's so, so wrong. I'm your fucking therapist." He sounded like he was about to cry.

"I know," you said, even quieter this time.

"And I'm about five years your senior."

You hadn't even thought about that. "...I know."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, but you couldn't keep quiet, you couldn't do it. 

"But I need you," you said, your voice small, and you curled in on yourself, feeling pathetic. He didn't say anything at first, so you curled in further, resting your head on your kneecaps, allowing the tears to well in your eyes. Then, you felt his hand smooth over your bare back, and you sniffled. "I need you," you said again.

Sehun let out a breath. "I know," he said. "But not like this. This isn't-- it's not healthy, Y/N."

You uncurled yourself a small amount so that you could look at him, tears in your eyes, and say, "I know. I know. I know. But..." You couldn't look at him as you said it, so you looked away, out his bedroom window, at the sunrise. "But maybe I don't give a shit.  _Nothing_ in my life is healthy. You of all people should know that." You let out a mirthless laugh. "My goddamn Korean professor is blackmailing me into dating him!"

Sehun withdrew from your body. You looked over to see his face worked into the very picture of concern. "He's still blackmailing you?"

Quickly, you shook your head. "He was, I meant," you said, which wasn't a lie. You  _had_ meant to say it in the past tense, because it was both true and uncompromising. You couldn't let Sehun know that Baekhyun was still after you. Not when his job was on the line. Not when his reputation was on the line. 

You changed the topic. "Sehun..." you said, trailing off a bit because you were afraid to say what you wanted to say. "I don't want to stop."

Sehun's eyes met yours. He exhaled, shook his head, and then said, "Fuck." His eyes trailed over your body carefully, what he could see with you holding the sheet to your chest. Then, he shut his eyes and said, "Fuck, Y/N, that's so not fair."

You shifted, dropping the sheet as you reached for him to take both of his hands into yours. You felt the cold air on your breasts, and you felt your nipples perk up. He opened his eyes when you grabbed him, and he inhaled sharply as his eyes danced along your chest. 

"Sehun..." you bit your lip. "I don't have class today... and I want you to know that I was listening to you, but..." Your cheeks were red fire from blush. "One more time can't hurt, right?"

Sehun shook his head, but as he did so, he was moving towards you, his hands smoothing over your breasts, thumbs rubbing your nipples until they hardened. "We can't," he said, but he pushed you down lightly, and you let him. His lips found yours, captured yours, and your heart raced. "It's so wrong," he murmured, but his hand slid down your body and found your sex. He dipped one finger inside of you, making you mewl. Your hands caught at his arms, and you looked up at him with lidded eyes. There he was, the only man who had ever known you, the only man who had ever been inside of you. And he was telling you all of the reasons why you should let him go.

Tears stung in your eyes the entire time the two of you made love.

* * *

It was the next day. It seemed like Baekhyun could sense that you'd slept with Sehun twice more. He didn't tell you explicitly to stay after class, but you knew by the way he was glaring at you that you would be in a world of trouble if you didn't.

Yixing noticed too.

"Y/N." He pulled out his phone, tapped on it a few times, and then held the screen out to you. You saw that he'd pulled up a contact for a man named Junmyeon. "I told you, I'm friends with the dean. I've got his number right here. Let me text him for you. Please."

You shook your head. "It's fine," you said.

Yixing rolled his eyes and retracted his phone. "He's glaring at you. Are you going to pretend like that's not happening?"

You considered it for a second. "Yes."

Yixing snorted. He seemed to get that you weren't going to allow him to talk to the dean about Baekhyun any time soon, so he took the cue and changed the subject. Since Baekhyun had told the class to split up into partners and work on the assigned reading, you figured the two of you wouldn't get in trouble for talking.

"So my friend Minseok said he met you the other day," he said conversationally as he flipped to the page you were supposed to be working on. 

You nodded. "Yeah, we ran into each other. He was nice."

Yixing nodded. "Yeah. He's a really good guy." He grinned at you, then, and he said, "He said you were super cute. I think he likes you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You laughed. "Yeah, right." 

Yixing rolled his shoulders, like he was prepping to say something. "You should hang out with us sometime. I promise we don't bite." He grinned again, and you grinned back. Your first immediate thought was:  _Holy shit, I'm making friends, I need to tell Sehun._ Then it was:  _Sehun had his dick in you not 24 hours ago. That's weird._

Before you could say anything else, everyone around you started to pack up, and you realized class was over. You moved slowly, hoping that no one would notice you staying behind, but Yixing picked up on it immediately.

"You should come eat dinner with us," he suggested. Then, he noticed your hesitation and said, with his eyebrows raised, "Unless you're planning on staying here?"

Your face flushed. "No, not at all," you said, and you sped up your packing. You would have to text Baekhyun to meet you somewhere. It would be far too suspicious if you stayed behind after class, he had to realize that. Once you'd gotten your bag all settled, you hoisted it up onto your shoulders and faced Yixing again. 

"I'd love to hang out with you and your friend tonight, I really would," you said as people bustled around you, "but I can't. I have foreign literature homework to do--" Not a lie, necessarily-- "and I really want to spend time in my dorm." Also not a lie.

Yixing nodded, a little bit deflated. "That's okay. Next time, alright?" 

"Right," you said, and you smiled. "I'll see you later, Yixing," you said, and the two of you left the classroom. He bid you goodbye before going his own way, and as soon as he was gone, you whipped out your phone, typing frantically.

[I couldn't stay; it would have been too suspicious.] - Y/N

[I can meet you at Kitty's Cafe if you want.] - Y/N

Kitty's Cafe was a small, private cafe located just off campus. Students hardly ever went there-- it was more of a haunt for old people, which made it the perfect place for you to meet with Baekhyun. You made a face as you re-read your texts. You didn't want to seem like you actually wanted to see him, though.

[If not, I do have homework to do.] - Y/N

There. That got the point across, hopefully without angering him. You stuffed your phone in your bag and kept walking, taking your time as you made your way to your dorm.

Chanyeol was already there when you arrived. He perked up when you walked in, taking off his headphones and saying, "Hey! Do you want to go down to the commons and get dinner together tonight?"

Your heart instantly sank. "I can't," you said, and the regret in your voice was genuine. As much as you needed alone time, what you wanted more than anything right then was to be a normal college student and go grab dinner with your sweet roommate. But being a normal college student just wasn't written in your stars.

Chanyeol's face sank. "Oh," he said. He looked down at his homework he'd been doing and said, "I just thought, since you're not around much anymore, you'd want to spend some time together."

Your heart was breaking. "Chanyeol--"

He held up a hand. "No, I get it," he said, and he gave you a smile that was clearly forced. "I know you're a little busy right now. And your life is..." He was clearly thinking about everything you'd told him the day before. "Crazy. So I get it."

That very well might have been true, but you still felt horrible. "Tomorrow night, okay?" You said. "For sure." You'd have to beg Baekhyun to leave you alone for one night, at least. You thought back to the sweet person you'd met between the blackmail and cockiness. Surely not all of him had been fake.

Chanyeol nodded, but he didn't look convinced. "Tomorrow," he agreed.

* * *

You were only alone in the Kitty's Cafe for a few minutes before Baekhyun walked in, dressed in casual clothes, looking like sin in black jeans, a black shirt, and black, slicked back hair. Every muscle in your body constricted, and you were practically made of stone by the time he got to your table.

"You shouldn't be out alone," he said with no preamble. "Don't you have a roommate? Where is she?"

You shook your head at him. " _He_ is busy. Studying."

Baekhyun's handsome face sunk into a dark scowl. " _'He?'"_ He demanded.

You sighed as you stirred sugar into your coffee. "Yes, he," you said. You didn't like where this conversation was going. "Look, is there any specific reason why you wanted to see me? I do have homework to do, I wasn't lying." You tried to change the topic. Plus, maybe you could convince him to let you go in time to meet with Chanyeol.

Baekhyun wouldn't be deterred. He narrowed his eyes as you took a sip of your coffee and asked, "And have you fucked your roommate too?"

You spat coffee on yourself.

You glared at him as you dabbed at your shirt with your napkin. "Not that it's any of your business," you said, "but no. I haven't. Chanyeol's not--"

Baekhyun's eyes widened, and he interrupted you. "Chanyeol?" He repeated.

You stopped dabbing at your shirt for a moment. "Uh, yeah?" Did he know him? "Why?"

Baekhyun smirked. "No reason," he said. "It's just a Korean name."

You eyed him suspiciously. You weren't sure you bought it, but you returned to what you'd been saying. 

"Chanyeol's not like that," you said. "He's just a friend."

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. "Like how Sehun's just your therapist?"

You clenched your jaw.

"You fucked him again," Baekhyun continued, his eyes appraising you. "I can just tell. You know you can't keep doing that, right?" You weren't stupid. You knew that.

"It's none of your business," you said again.

Baekhyun leaned closer to you, his eyes narrow once more. "Actually, it is. You're my girlfriend." You winced. He pretended not to notice. "And as such, you shouldn't be fucking other people."

You narrowed your eyes right back at him. "Well, I'm certainly not fucking  _you_ ," you said nastily, but he didn't even flinch.

"Well, not right now you're not," he said. "But never say never, sweetheart."

You were seriously going to punch him. "Shut the hell up. I'm never touching you again."

Baekhyun opened his mouth to retort, but an elderly woman cut him off.

"Well aren't you two just the cutest!" She declared as she passed, on her way to the bathroom or something. She paused at your table, smiling down at the two of you, and you were flabbergasted.

Bekhyun smiled the most glorious smile and reached out and took your hand. To your surprise, heat shot up your arm from where he touched you, and you almost shivered right there.  _Shut up,_ you thought at your traitorous body as you smiled at the old woman. 

"Thank you," Baekhyun said to her, and hell if he didn't look like sunshine itself.

"How long have you two been together?" The woman asked. You clenched your teeth as you smiled.  _She's being sweet and old,_ you reminded yourself.  _Not nosy and rude. She means nothing by it._

Still, you couldn't help yourself. "Oh, we're not together," you said. The old woman's smile turned to a frown. She rounded on Baekhyun, hands on her hips.

"And why not?" She asked him. She nodded her head at you. "She's extremely pretty, young man. You better get her before someone else does."

You grinned. Baekhyun looked speechless, for once, and you were just starting to seriously enjoy it when the woman rounded on you again and said, "And  _you,_ young lady. He's  _clearly_ a keeper. This is the 21st century! You ask him out already!"

Your cheeks were bright pink. Baekhyun smirked at you.  _I'm a keeper,_ he mouthed, and you had to resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. 

"Martha?" An old man shuffled over. He took the old woman by the waist and said, "Are you bothering these two kids?"

Martha looked offended.

"Not at all," Baekhyun said. "But we were just about to leave." He rose from his seat, and you were happy to follow, if it meant the conversation with Martha would be over. Baekhyun took out a ten dollar bill and left it on the table next to your coffee. He nodded at Martha and said, "It was nice meeting you, ma'am." Then, he dragged you from the restaurant like it was on fire.

"I didn't think she was that bad," you commented as he pulled you out the door and then roughly, his hands on your shoulders, shoved you against the alley wall.

"Shut up," he said breathlessly, and then his mouth was on yours.

You gasped, and he shoved you harder against the wall, his arms moving to trap you, one on either side of your head. He kissed you angrily, so angrily, it was like you could taste his rage, and you took it, moaning against his lips and kissing him back. You knew, implicitly, that if you told him to stop, he would. No matter how much he had changed, he would stop.

But you didn't tell him to stop.

"Stop fucking Sehun, please," he begged as he kissed you, and you mumbled something nonsensical in response. Baekhyun's tongue found yours and you leaned into the kiss, pushing off of the wall and wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him to you. He had to lean down to kiss you, you knew, and he'd never had a problem with it before. So it surprised you, then, when without a warning, he hoisted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around him to avoid falling back down. He slammed your back against the wall again. "Please, baby, please," he pleaded, his voice scratchy. He pressed kisses to your lips over and over again, and it was like he was trying to devour you. You felt as if you were on drowning, drowning in the way he felt, in his hands on your ass, holding you up, the feel of the skin of his back on your fingertips as you slid your hands up his shirt.

"I'm not your baby," you mumbled as he kissed you. He bit at your lip, hard, and you let out a sharp noise of pleasure at the sensation.

"Be my baby, then." He was begging, pleading between kisses, and you were melting. Melting. But you couldn't forget, wouldn't forget--

_Do not think me above getting Sehun fired,_ he'd threatened.  _There's nothing I wouldn't do._

At that, you broke away from him, sobs heaving in your chest before you could process what was going on. Baekhyun didn't try to kiss your lips again, he caught you as you clutched at him, and he crouched, sliding you down the wall until you were sitting on his lap, sobbing hysterically into his shirt.

"Y/N," he said, and you could hear genuine pain in his voice. "Baby, please don't cry. Please, baby." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You cried even harder. "Baby, please, please don't cry. Y/N..."

It made no sense, why you would break down clutching onto the one person who was making you break down in the first place. For you to seek comfort in the one person who had only brought you anything but.

But there you were, crying, clutching onto Byun Baekhyun, as he murmured your name over and over again, only your name, always your name. 


	13. Can't Say No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS!!!!! So, you may have noticed, but I deleted the last update (Chapter 13) and have replaced it with this! That's because *dramatic drum roll* basically a bunch of friends on tumblr were giving me shit about ending the series too soon, so I will be continuing!!!! I'm actually pretty excited to continue on this journey with you all if you will let me. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Just to reiterate: Break My Heart will NOT be ending at Chapter 14. It will end at a to-be-determined chapter, later on. The story will continue.
> 
> Hearts <3

Chanyeol knew something was wrong the instant you got back to the dorm, but you wouldn’t talk about it. He asked you once, twice. Three times. But you just shook your head, your lips tight.

“Is that guy still blackmailing you?” He demanded. You winced. You regretted ever saying anything about it. You’d needed someone to talk to sure, and you hadn’t given anything away, okay, but still, what the fuck, who shares that kind of information?

You shook your head. You hoped he would take that as a ‘no’, because you didn’t want to lie to him. You couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him, no, you were out of the woods. So you hoped he would drop it.

He didn’t.

“Y/N--” he yelled from outside of the bathroom door, where you’d locked yourself as you cried. “Y/N, do I need to call someone? The school counselor? Or… the cops?” He sounded lost. He stopped talking for a moment, for just long enough that you thought he might have given up on you. Then, he said, “I just, if you’re not safe--”

“I’m safe,” you said, and you swung the door open, meeting his eyes. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you were safe. As annoying, as rude, and as indecipherable Baekhyun was, you knew there was no way in hell he would hurt you.

Physically. 

Chanyeol met your eyes, and he seemed to be able to see that you were sincere. “I’m safe, Chanyeol,” you repeated, and he seemed to soften. All of the air came out of him, and he slouched a little. Hesitant, you took a step out of the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Then, you gave him a hug.

It was nice to hug Chanyeol. He was tall and a little clunky, but he hugged you back, and tears stung in your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked quietly.

You pulled away, wiping furiously at your face. “I’m fine,” you lied unconvincingly. Chanyeol said nothing as the two of you made your way to your dorm. He was silent as you slipped off your shoes, even as you climbed under the covers fully clothed. It was when the both of you were in bed that he finally said, “Y/N, we’re friends, right?”

You looked over to his bed in the dark, eyes wide. “Of course,” you said. Your heart levitated, burning, in your chest, and you waited for him to say more.

But he only said, “Right”, and then rolled over on his side, his back to you. Your tongue dried up in your mouth. Before you could say something else, anything else, the loud noise of a text tone interrupted you.

It was your phone.

[Sweet dreams, Y/N.] - Professor Byun

You set the phone down and went to bed.

* * *

Chanyeol was gone when you woke up. You tried not to take this personally, but it was a Thursday morning-- one of the mornings when you had foreign literature with him, and usually that meant he would walk to class with you.

Not today, though.

You stared up at the ceiling from your bed. You were clad still in yesterday’s outfit, and it was getting more and more uncomfortable the longer you stayed there. You knew you should move. You knew you  _ had  _ to move. 

But did you want to move? No.

What the hell was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just establish a normal relationship? Chanyeol was more than nice, more than sweet, more than understanding. And there you were, lying to him, avoiding him, and making him feel like he wasn’t really your friend. It wasn’t like you wanted it to be that way, sure, but it still was.

You fucking hated it.

You unplugged your phone from where it sat charging by your bed. You saw that you still had ample time to get to class-- your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet-- but that wasn’t why you were on it. You flicked to your messages, ignoring the one from Baekhyun still, and typed in Chanyeol’s name.

You bit your lip as you typed your text. Was he truly mad at you? Were you imagining things? Making a mountain out of a molehill? You shook your head, thinking about him turning his back on you last night, the way he’d said, “Right.” You stared at the text for almost a whole minute before you sent it.

[Are we still on to hang tonight?] - Y/N

You didn’t expect an answer right away, so it surprised you when before you could even set your phone down, you saw the typing bubble pop up.

[Yes!!!] - Chanyeol

[Sorry I didn’t wait for you] - Chanyeol

You looked over at his empty bed.  _ It’s no big deal,  _ you typed.  _ I’m sorry about last night.  _ You checked the time again. Your alarm would go off soon. You switched into your clock app to shut it off, and then set your phone down. You should probably start to get dressed.

The last thing you needed right now was to be late to Professor Asshole’s class.

* * *

But it wasn’t Professor Asshole’s class that you should have been worried about. As ever, it was Baekhyun’s.

He didn’t say a word to you. Didn’t call you to stay after class, didn’t make eye contact with you, didn’t even breathe in your direction. You were quaking in your chair.

Yixing noticed.

“Professor Byun… is he ignoring you?” He asked curiously as Baekhyun elaborated on a specific grammar rule in the front of the classroom.

You tried to appear nonchalant. “What do you mean?” Was Baekhyun’s cold shoulder really so obnoxious that other kids were noticing it?

Was he even giving you the cold shoulder? Or just wisening up about interacting in front of your peers?

Yixing gave you a look. “What do you mean, what do I mean. He always harasses you. Remember?”

With a sigh, you looked over at him. He meant well, he really did. But him paying attention to your relationship with Baekhyun was the last thing you effing needed.

“I talked to him after class about it,” you said, which was relatively true. You  _ had  _ texted him that you meeting him after every class was too obvious. “He apologized and said he’d make an effort not to single me out anymore.”

Yixing hardly seemed appeased. “Well, he’s doing a fantastic job,” he grumbled. “This side of the classroom hasn’t even gotten a cursory glance since class started.”

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t have it both ways,” you said. “Either you want him to single me out, or you want him to ignore me. Pick one.”

Yixing shot you another look. “Why can’t he just interact with you as if you’re a normal student?”

You wanted to sigh. Why, indeed.

* * *

 

Your phone went off three times in your bag in the time it took you to sit down with Chanyeol in the commons center to grab a bit for dinner.

He eyed your bag. “Are you gonna get that?” He asked. 

It was either Baekhyun, Sehun, or your parents. You wanted to talk to none of them. “No,” you said pleasantly, and he let the subject drop, if only for a few minutes. 

The two of you were sitting in the corner of the dining area, plates piled high with the meal of the day, and you were trying not to be obvious about how guilty you felt. You toyed with the salad on your plate as Chanyeol ate without a care, but eventually, you caved.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, sighing, and you set your fork down. 

You felt him looking at you. “Why?” You glanced up, and he was arching an eyebrow. 

You looked away. “I’m the worst friend ever,” you mumbled, looking down at your food. Chanyeol said nothing. “Like, you’re probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, and all we ever do when we even interact is talk about me, or my problems, or…” You shook your head. “I suck.”

Chanyeol was silent for a moment. Then: “In your defense,” he began, “your life is kind of ridiculous.”

Your head shot up at that, and you glared at him. He laughed. 

“What?” He took another bite of his meal. “I mean, look at it from my perspective.” He chewed. “You’ve got shit parents.  _ Beyond  _ shit parents. Like, if I had your parents, I’d be  _ way  _ more of a mess.”

You crossed your arms. “I hope you’re going somewhere with this,” you said. 

Chanyeol ignored you. “The only person you really trust is your therapist,” he continued, “which is nice, but also kind of fucked up, because, you know, you should be able to trust your friends and family.” 

At that, you interjected. “I trust you,” you said. 

He raised his eyebrows again. “Alright,” he said. “Who’s blackmailing you, then?”

You were silent.

“Right.” He nodded, his expression sour. “That’s what I thought.” Chanyeol set his fork down and looked at you, really looked at you. “You know what your problem is, Y/N?” He asked, and his voice wasn’t unkind, but you still felt your heart twist in your chest. 

You could hardly breathe, all of the sudden. “No,” you said. 

Chanyeol leaned forward. “You isolate yourself,” he said. “You never ask anyone for help. You never tell anyone who can help you what’s going on in your life. Have you talked with your therapist about this person who’s blackmailing you?”

You didn’t answer. Technically, yes, you had, but you didn’t want to lie to Chanyeol. The way you’d discussed Baekhyun with Sehun wasn’t the way Chanyeol was suggesting you talk with your therapist about your problem, and you knew it. 

Chanyeol looked away from you. “Exactly.” He shook his head. “You know, Y/N, I like you and all, but  _ seriously,  _ girl. Why are you doing this to yourself? When someone is hurting you, you ask for help.”

You ground your teeth. “It’s not that simple,” you said, and it wasn’t. Maybe Chanyeol was right. Maybe you were a untrusting mess that needed to ask for help. But he didn’t know the whole story, and he didn’t know  _ you. _

“Enlighten me, then,” Chanyeol said, and he sounded a little desperate. You looked into his eyes, and you saw not judgment or malice there, but a desire to understand. To help. Any anger that had blossomed inside of you died. 

You looked down at your food. “I can’t,” you said. 

Chanyeol made a noise of frustration. “And why not?” He demanded. “Y/N, I’m trying to be your friend, here. I just want you to be okay.”

“Maybe I am okay,” you said, as you stared at your salad. “Maybe I’m handling it on my own.”

Chanyeol scoffed. “Like how you were handling it last night? When you came home with your face all puffy from crying?”

That was hardly fair. You glared up at him. “I’m doing my best,” you snapped. You tried to remind yourself that this sweet boy just wanted to help you, but you were getting angry again. Sehun would have told you that you were getting defensive, trying to protect yourself from being hurt. In the past, letting people “help” you had never gone too well. What evidence did you have that Chanyeol would be different?

“And what I’m  _ trying  _ to say is, what if your best isn’t good enough?” Chanyeol asked, his eyes wide. He reached out for your hand. “Y/N, I--”

“Well, look who it is!”

You seized up. What the hell was  _ he  _ doing here? 

You and Chanyeol both saw him stalking over to your table, grin on his handsome face at the same time. You and Chanyeol, however, had very different reactions to his arrival.

“Baek!” Chanyeol exclaimed, and he rose from his seat, crushing the man into a hug.

You stared.  _ What…? _

Your mind flashed, and suddenly you could hear snippets of a conversation had just the night before in your mind. 

_ Baekhyun’s eyes widened, and he interrupted you. “Chanyeol?” He repeated. _

_ You stopped dabbing at your shirt for a moment. “Uh, yeah?” Did he know him? “Why?” _

_ Baekhyun smirked. “No reason,” he said. “It’s just a Korean name.” _

They knew each other. Your roommate and Baekhyun  _ knew  _ each other. And they were clearly friends, by the looks of it.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck me.  _

You rose unsteadily from your seat.

“Y/N! This is my friend, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol started happily as he pulled out of the hug.

“I, um, know,” you said. “I mean, I know him. Sort of. I mean, he’s my professor.” God, you were rambling.  _ Shut the fuck up!  _ “Not that I knew you two were friends.” Why were you still talking? “I, um.” You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “Hi,” you said to Baekhyun.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Hi,” he said back, in an almost mocking manner. You narrowed your eyes.  _ You better not try anything in front of Chanyeol. So help me God, I will kill you. _

Chanyeol didn’t seem to notice Baekhyun’s attitude. “Y/N’s my roommate,” he said, ushering his friend over to your table.  _ Oh God, please don’t invite him to eat with us. Please don’t invite him to eat with us.  _ You didn’t think you could take that level of weird. Like:  _ Ah, yes, let me just have a nice, relaxing dinner with my puppy-dog roommate and the bastard sex-god who’s blackmailing me into dating him. _

Fucking  _ great _ .

“I see,” Baekhyun said. He didn’t take the third empty chair, which left the three of you awkwardly standing around the table. His eyes appraised you.

“Baek’s been my friend my whole life,” Chanyeol said. “He’s the reason I came to study here in America. He wrote one of my letters of recommendation!”

Your heart was starting to crush itself to death. The way Chanyeol was looking at Baekhyun-- the way he was talking about him-- the boy clearly admired him, clearly looked up to him, clearly loved him.

You knew implicitly then that no matter what Chanyeol said, you could never, ever tell him about Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun was eyeing you up and down, not so subtly. You glared at him, hoping he’d take a hint.

“I was texting you,” he said.

Your heart stopped.

Chanyeol blinked.

“Um?” was all that could come out of your mouth. 

Fluidly, Baekhyun sat down, folding his hands before him as you scrambled to sit, too. “About your internships. Remember?”

Your… what?

Baekhyun’s eyes met yours, and you remembered-- how could you have forgotten?

_ “I am not letting you go home to that. You will be staying with me during breaks until you graduate, or until you manage to emancipate yourself.” He walked around to the other side of his desk, opening a drawer and rifling through it to find something in there as you stared, unblinking. “I can get you internships almost anywhere you want. What are you interested in?” _

_ “I-- I--” You had no idea. You couldn’t exactly process what was going on, everything seemed surreal and foggy. Like a nice dream you’d wake up from any second. _

“Ah-- yeah,” you said, rather stupidly. Seriously, how had you forgotten about Baekhyun offering to get you an internship? Again you found yourself asking: what the hell was wrong with you?

You knew what the hell was wrong with you. You’d allowed yourself to get absorbed into him, and then into Sehun, had allowed yourself to get unbelievably distracted until you had forgotten about the opportunity provided to let you escape your parents.

“Yeah,” you repeated. Chanyeol was starting to look at you as if you were slow. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I was talking with Chanyeol. I heard my phone go off, but--”

Baekhyun held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. His face was very kind. When he looked like that, it was almost impossible to imagine he’d be capable of the things you knew he was capable of.

Like blackmail. Threatening. Cruelty.

Kissing you like the two of you would die if he stopped.

Chanyeol’s interest was piqued. “Is Y/N looking for an internship studying Korean?” He sounded pretty excited. It made sense, though, considering that’s where he was from. “Is she looking to study abroad?”

Baekhyun smirked. “I don’t know. Is she?” He focused his attention on you. You tried not to glare. Normal students didn’t glare at their professors. Especially not the ones who were helping them get internships seemingly out of the goodness of their own hearts.

“I was more interested in journalism,” you said, which was true. The internships about journalism had been the ones you’d taken the most note of, especially the ones at magazines you knew.

Chanyeol seemed a tad bit deflated. “Well, if you  _ do  _ decide to study abroad, you can always stay with me during breaks,” he offered. “I don’t live that far from Seoul.”

You felt your entire being melting. He was the sweetest boy you’d ever known. Officially. Seriously, honestly, entirely. 

You didn’t effing deserve him.

“That’s a good idea,” Baekhyun said, but his eyes told a different story. He was eyeing you possessively, and you remembered him saying that you could stay with him during breaks if you needed to… you gulped. 

Baekhyun turned to Chanyeol. “Do you mind if I steal Y/N from you?” He asked. Chanyeol looked a little surprised. “I want to discuss internship options with her in private. At my office, if you will… it shouldn’t take too long. I’d get her back to you before the night is through, in case the two of you have plans.”

After a moment, Chanyeol nodded. “Sounds like a deal,” he shrugged. He nodded at you as he reluctantly rose. You doubted Baekhyun actually wanted to talk to you about internships.

The only thing you could think as he led you away was:  _ what the hell is it now? _

* * *

“Come away with me this weekend,” he said almost the second the two of you were out of earshot.

You turned bright red and shushed him. “Don’t say shit like that where people can hear you,” you hissed. Didn’t he remember that his entire hold over you was that you wanted absolutely no one to know that you were with him?

Baekhyun only looked amused. “What would you prefer I say? ‘Y/N, you look so fucking sexy today that I could only think about fucking you my entire lecture’?” He gave you that fucking smirk that made you weak in the knees.

_ Get it together,  _ you thought at your knees. You forced yourself to scowl, and ignored the way your heart was racing at his words.

“No,” you said. “I’d prefer if you let me eat dinner with my roommate, if you will.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “It looked like the two of you were arguing before I arrived,”” he said.  _ Damn it.  _ Now  _ he decides to be perceptive? _

You didn’t have much to say to that. “Why do you want me this weekend?” You asked, trying not to notice the way your stomach flipped at the thought of what spending a weekend with him might entail.  _ What the fuck, Y/N. Did you forget everything? How terrible he became when Sehun found you out? _

_ Did you forget about Sehun, for that matter? _

_ I repeat: what. The hell. Is wrong with you. _

“I can’t go anywhere with you, besides,” you made yourself say.

Baekhyun stopped walking, pausing halfway out of the commons’ cafeteria door. He turned his gaze on you. “And why is that?” He asked coolly.

You shifted uncomfortably. “Because-- move it, would you?” You gave him a light shove through the doorway. People were starting to line up behind you. “Because I don’t want to.”

Baekhyun started walking again, but he was eyeing you. “That’s not how it seemed last night,” he said. 

You glared at him.  _ Again: don’t say shit like that where people can hear you!!!!  _ “I burst into tears last night,” you said.

Baekhyun’s expression darkened. “I remember,” he said, his voice quieter. Then, he grabbed your arm gently and pulled you to the side, away from the ebb and flow of students entering and exiting the commons building. “Look, Y/N,” he said. “I want to spend the weekend with you. I’m not going to do anything inappropriate to you. Not,” he added, “unless you ask me to.” You glared at him even harder. 

“I’m not going to ask you to,” you said. But it might have been a lie.

You weren’t much in control of yourself anymore, you had learned.

Especially not around him.


	14. Overdose

You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the slot ahead of yours to finally leave Sehun's office. To say you were anxious would be an understatement. You were positively freaking out. All you wanted was to get the whole thing over and done with, so that you could go back to your dorm and sleep away Baekhyun's request, the fight with Chanyeol, and whatever traumatizing thing was bound to happen during your session with Sehun.

It was the first time you'd been since... since he'd found out about you and Baekhyun, since you'd fallen into his bed. You weren't sure exactly how you were supposed to feel or what you were supposed to be doing. I mean, all you really knew was that your life was a mess, and if it weren't for your parents' insurance paying for one therapy session a week, you surely would have said, "NO THANK YOU" when he'd called to schedule an appointment.

But there you were. Sitting, watching the clock as it ticked every so slowly, waiting for the session before you to finally just be over. You kept jiggling your leg, so hard that you could see it irritating the other people in the waiting room, but every time you pressed down on the offending leg with your hand, the other one would start up again. Eventually, you just gave up.

Before the other citizens of the waiting room could band together to chop off both of your legs, Sehun's office door opened.

You sucked in a breath.

He looked just as he'd always looked, just as he'd always looked when he wasn't mussed-up from sex or sleeping all night. His platinum hair was hanging in his face, but it didn't look messy-- no, it looked suave, professional. His eyes met yours.

Nothing happened. You didn't know what you had been expecting-- maybe that all the memories of being with him, the memories of him fucking you would go away like a dream once you saw him back in his natural habitat? But the memories stayed. If anything, you could hear him groaning in your ear, could feel his hands on every inch of your skin. You swallowed.

Sehun nodded at you, a stiff, cordial nod. You rose from your chair, clumsily, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Your hands were numb. You hardly noticed when a skinny boy exited from Sehun's open office door, bidding his therapist a goodbye and then brushing past you with an apology. All you could think was,  _Oh God, what am I doing here._

* * *

As soon as the door shut, you started hyperventilating.

Not, like, lowkey hyperventilating, with little gasps and endearing tremors. No. Full-on, flat-out, freaking hyperventilating, which resulted in you clutching a pillow from Sehun's couch and biting into it as you struggled to breathe.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Sehun rushed over to you, abandoning his post by the door as he rushed to make sure you were okay. "Y/N, breathe. _Breathe._ In, out. In, out. In, hold four seconds. Out, hold four seconds." He was repeating the mantra he'd taught you years ago for coping with attacks like this. He repeated the words, over and over again until you were following them. Finally, your breathing slowed back down, and you let go of the pillow, cognizant of the tears streaming down your face as you stared at his carpeted floor. You couldn't look at him. 

"Y/N..." He sounded very, very sad. "Maybe we should--"

"No," you said. You knew, whatever he was going to say, you wouldn't like it. "No," you repeated.

Sehun was silent for a moment. "You didn't even listen to what I was going to say," he said. "I just, I can't help but think that maybe we shouldn't-- shouldn't do this anymore." Against your will, your eyes flew to meet his. He was serious. "Maybe I need to help you find a new therapist."

Your heart seized up in your chest.  _No, no, no, no._ You shook your head, and the rapid breathing was starting to make a reappearance.  _No, no, no._ You would not lose him. Sehun was quite possibly the first and only person in your life who had ever genuinely cared about you. God knew your parents hadn't. You couldn't lose that. You  _couldn't._

"No, no, no,  _no,"_ you emphasized, your breathing shallow. He reached for you in concern, but you jerked your hand away, curling up into a little ball on his couch. "No!"

"Y/N." His voice was pained. "I just think that-- I  _know_ that this isn't right, for us to-- well, for us to be in the same room, even."

At that-- before you could even register your body's movements as your own-- you rose from the couch, fists clenched, and you stared at him with wild, tear-stained eyes. "No." You said, and your voice was shaking. "No. Do you understand me?  _No._ You're the only person who's ever fucking cared about me!"

Sehun rose too. "I care about you  _too much,"_ he said, "Why can't you understand that? Jesus  _Christ,_ Y/N, I-- I'm in fucking love with you!"

Your eyes went wide. Too wide. Sehun saw, and he cursed and looked away, the rise and fall of his chest uneven. You could hardly even feel yours moving.

_... what?_

You vaguely recalled Baekhyun making snide comments about Sehun having feelings for you when he'd found you out, but you had brushed it off as chatter. You'd just thought-- well, you'd figured you'd both been out of your minds the times you'd slept together. But, shit, if Sehun was  _in love with you..._

"Oh my God," you whispered. Tears started to sting in your eyes. You were selfish, so selfish. God, what the hell was wrong with you? It all made sense now. His concern, his kindness, everything. Fuck anyone thinking he'd taken advantage of you--  _you_ were the one taking advantage of his feelings for you, without even knowing it.

You hastily wiped at your eyes and saw with clearer vision that he had sat back down. His legs were crossed, and he had his arms folded. He nodded at the couch. "Sit down, Y/N," he said tiredly. You hurried to obey. You were silent, tears leaking one by one from your eyes. You cursed yourself in your head. If anyone had the right to be crying, it was him, not you.

"I'm sorry," you said, horrified at yourself. Your voice was soft, but you knew he heard. He said nothing. You said it again. "I'm sorr--"

"Don't," Sehun said levelly, cutting you off. His eyes met yours. He appeared to have collected himself once more. That face was back again, the almost-cold one that had scared you so much when you'd first met him. You bit at your lip. How long had he felt this way? Surely he hadn't fallen for you at first sight. You'd been too young, and he'd been too paternal. No, somewhere along the line, things had shifted, you realized. You had always known it, deep down.

No one is that close with their therapist.

You shrunk into yourself, your shoulders curling in. You had never felt so small.

Sehun's gaze softened. "I don't need you to apologize, Y/N," he said. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing. You've done nothing wrong."

You shook your head. "That's not true," you said. Your voice was hoarse. You didn't elaborate, but you were sure he knew you were right. You'd done a hell of a lot wrong, starting with not reporting Baekhyun immediately, before he'd gotten this intense of a hold on you. You didn't want to blame yourself for everything that happened...

But you sure as hell weren't blameless.

Your eyes drifted away from Sehun, towards the window in his office. When you'd first started coming, you'd looked exclusively out of the window, never at him. He was too intimidating, even after he'd told you that his face was just his face, he wasn't glaring at you. 

_Well, he should be glaring at me now,_ you thought.  _He should be effing furious. This is all my fault. All of it._ How quickly you devolved into fatalistic guilt.  _I should have reported Baekhyun. Who cares if the university might not've believed me? At least I could say I did_ something.  _At least I could say I tried. Now..._

"Y/N." You knew he'd changed topics by the sound of his voice. He was stern. "Are you still seeing Baekhyun?"

Your stomach flipped. Why would he ask that? Were you that transparent that he could tell you were thinking about his friend? Had he not believed you when you'd told him you would stay away?

Of course, he had good reason not to believe that, as you hadn't, but that hadn't been your choice, either. Baekhyun had new leverage. He had knowledge of your relationship with Sehun, and you couldn't allow Sehun's professional life to be messed up by  _your_ mistake. So of course you hadn't stayed away from him, of course you were still seeing him.

But you knew you couldn't say that to Sehun. If he knew that Baekhyun's leverage over you was your illicit relationship, he would turn himself in at once. You eyed him furtively. Yes, he was that kind of guy-- you knew him well enough to know  _that._

You would not allow him to destroy his life for your sake.

_This is all my fault,_ you thought. And then you lied to your therapist.

"No," you said, your voice strong. You forced yourself to look in his eyes. He wouldn't believe you otherwise.

Sehun examined you. There was a beat of silence, in which your heart thrummed insanely fast in your chest. Your palms started to sweat. It was the first time you'd ever directly lied to Sehun. You felt terrible. But what choice did you have? "Are you lying to me?" he asked quietly.

Your thrumming heart twinged with pain.  _My fault, my fault, my fault._ If you hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't have to lie to him. If you hadn't been so fucking selfish, you wouldn't have hurt him.

In that moment, you swore you hated yourself.

You looked away from him. You said nothing, but your inability to look him in the eye said more than enough. He cursed. 

"Sehun--" You began, your voice weak, but he cut you off. 

"No. Save it." You looked back at him, and saw a dark look on his features. He shook his head. " _Damn it,_ Y/N. What is he holding over you? What is he  _doing_ to you?"

The words were laced with such venom that you flinched. Sehun noticed, but he couldn't seem to push his anger away this time.

Your heart was climbing up into your throat. You were about to puke it out, it felt like.

"Is he touching you?" Sehun's voice had never been so hostile. You said nothing, just started to shake. "Is he bribing you?! I can-- I have money, Y/N, if that's what it is. I can give you want you need. You don't need to--"

You shook your head at him in disbelief. Out of nowhere, anger flooded your veins. You shot to your feet, a glare to rival his gracing your face. When you spoke, your words were ice.  _"I am not a prostitute."_

Sehun blanched. "That's not-- I wasn't saying--"

You shook your head again. "That's  _exactly_ you were saying," you snapped. In the back of your mind, there was a voice telling you to calm down, telling you that you were overreacting, that you had let all of your emotions pile up and they were all coming out at once on poor Sehun. But you told that voice to shut the hell up. "You know what Sehun? Fuck you. I'm out of here."

In a furious haze, you grabbed your bag, hoisting it over your shoulder as he rose to try to stop you.

"Y/N, I didn't mean--" He tried, blocking your path to the door.

You held a shriek in your throat. "Get out of my way, I swear to fucking God--"

The door flew open. But it was not Sehun who had touched it, nor was it you.

It was Baekhyun.

Your jaw dropped. Baekhyun stalked into the office like he owned it. Hell, he was rich enough, maybe he  _did,_ you thought.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sehun snarled, moving to block you from him. Like that would sever your connection to him, once and for all.

Things were not that easy.

Baekhyun scoffed at Sehun blocking you. "Please," he said. "All I have to do is tell her to come, and she will." Slowly, ever so slowly, a terrible yet beautiful smirk curved on his lips. "But you would know all about her coming, wouldn't you?"

You sucked in a sharp breath of air.

Sehun said nothing. Baekhyun continued.

"You know, I didn't think you had it in you," he said, appraising his friend with burning eyes. "To come onto her, after all these years. You know I've always known, right? That you were in love with her?"

You froze behind Sehun. 'Always known'... how long had this been a thing?

And if Baekhyun had  _always known_....

_Why had he approached you to break his heart in the first place?_

"Unless he wanted to break Sehun's too..." you found yourself muttering, too quiet to understand. Both of the boys ignored you.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sehun said finally. He crossed his arms. "I'm going to ask now that you leave. You're not welcome here." He gestured at the office door.

Baekhyun didn't move. "I'll leave," he said, "as long as Y/N comes with me."

You weren't breathing. Sehun scoffed.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting her leave with  _you_ ," he said.

And just like that, your anger was back. "Excuse me," you said as you stepped around him, into Baekhyun's vantage for the first time, "You have no say on who I leave with, thanks." You remembered his earlier comment, and your blood was boiling again. "Unless you're willing to pay for my company, that is."

Baekhyun's eyes flashed. "You called her a prostitute?" He snarled, rounding on Sehun, who stood his ground, his own glare a force to be reckoned with.

Sehun sneered. "Isn't that what you're treating her like?" He queried. "A goddamn prostitute? Manipulating her-- _forcing her_  to be with you? If it isn't with money, it's power. It's the same damn thing, Baek, the same fucking thing, and you'll never learn--"

Baekhyun was almost shaking with anger. "I would never force her to do anything."

At that, Sehun laughed. "Right," he said. "Tell me. Did Y/N over here volunteer for your little experiment? Did you or did you not blackmail her-- using your place of power as her goddamn  _professor_ to force her to play along?"

Baekhyun didn't flinch, even though Sehun was right. He took a step closer. "Judgment's fucking _rich_ coming from  _you,"_ he spat. "Did youor did you not use your place of power as Y/N's therapist to  _fuck her brains out?"_

The boys were looming in each other's faces, looking just about ready to throw down in a real, bloody fight right then and there.

You had to cut in. "Baekhyun, please," you moved quickly, latching onto his arm. You tried to yank him away from Sehun, but he wouldn't budge. You felt his arm muscles tensing under your grip. "Baekhyun--"

He whirled on you. "How are you even here with him?" He demanded, and you were shocked to see  _hurt_ in his eyes. "After what he's done to you?"

You swallowed. "He's my therapist," you said thickly.

Baekhyun scoffed. "Some fucking therapist," he said. He glared into Sehun's eyes for another moment, then turned his back on the man, sliding his hand into yours. "Come on, Y/N. We're going," he said, and he started towards the door.

You didn't move. You were torn. Should you go with Baekhyun? Stay with Sehun? Go off on your own? You knew what the smartest answer would be, but you'd already promised Baekhyun you'd spend the weekend with him, and you didn't want to irrevocably damage your relationship with Sehun over this.

"Y/N--" Sehun reached for you, but with one swift tug on your arm, Baekhyun pulled you out of his reach. His hands smoothed over your back, and you could feel him looking at you, but you were looking at Sehun.

"Don't go," Sehun pleaded. "Please, Y/N--"

Baekhyun's grip on you tightened. "Don't say her name like that," he said. "Don't say her name at all. Don't call, don't text, don't ever contact her again. She's  _mine."_

Then, without another word, Baekhyun dragged you from the office. You could do nothing but allow him to pull you away.

* * *

He threw your body up against his car and kissed you fiercely. You slackened in his arms, your body betraying you. Somewhere along the line, your body must have decided he was home, even if your mind and heart hadn't. You eased into him as naturally as you would have eased into your own bed. All the pressure that had been building inside of you during Sehun's session burst like dam, and suddenly, you were threading your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

_Damn the consequences,_ you thought. You could feel your phone going off in your back like mad, and you figured it was Sehun, or maybe even your parents, but you didn't check. It didn't matter. All that mattered was  _him,_ was the way you felt about him. You couldn't deny it any longer. You might not have known how your head and heart felt about this beautiful, enigmatic bastard who had marched into your life and demanded you break his heart. But your body recognized his as home.

For the first time, it occurred to you, truly. When this ended-- and it had to end, terribly, with brimstone and fire-- Baekhyun would not be the only one destroyed. Your relationship was a bomb. And when you truly detonated, everyone-- you, him, Sehun, even Chanyeol-- would burn to ash in the explosion.

"This is all my fault," you whispered against Baekhyun's lips. He pulled away, and said nothing, just smoothed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ears.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. "Let's get away from here," he whispered against your skin.

You closed your eyes. _Say no,_ you said to yourself.  _Say no, before the explosion comes and we all fucking die._ "Alright," you said.

Sometimes, bombs just had to detonate.


	15. Don't Be Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm really sorry about how slow this update was-- I happen to live directly in the path of Hurricane Irma, so I was busy prepping and evacuating... we just got internet back, so I'm posting this while I can, in case it goes down again. Love you all :)

Dark.

The car-ride was dark, nighttime coming quickly after the eve. The two of you took it in silence, a surreal silence that seemed to radiate with unspoken things and emotions. You didn't know how to break it. 

"Baekhyun..." you said softly, hesitantly. He clutched the wheel with white knuckles, his entire form tense and angry. "I don't have any clothes."

You waited anxiously for him to say something. For a while, he just stared out of the windshield at the open road. Then, he said shortly, "I'll buy you some" with a small glance in your direction. You sucked in a breath at the look in his eyes. Burning. He was on fire. You nodded.

You didn't say anything else for the rest of the journey.

* * *

Black.

The marble floor of the hotel was black.

"Byun," Baekhyun said to the lady in chiffon behind the golden counter. "Two rooms." 

You weren't intending to listen-- you were trying to distance yourself from him actually, because he seemed... volatile-- but you overheard, and a knot in your chest that you hadn't even been cognizant of eased itself out.  _Two rooms._

You hadn't put much thought into the sleeping arrangements on this trip, mostly because you'd adamantly convince yourself that he was joking, but you were thankful to hear that he had. And that he'd had the decency to book you your own room. Out of nowhere, your heart hurt.

You tried to scowl as you looked away from him. Your heart shouldn't be hurting over the same asshole who was blackmailing both you and your therapist, no matter how good he was at kissing. Period.

But you already knew that. You already knew how entirely goddamn stupid you were being, but that hadn't stopped you from being stupid yet. You were still here, weren't you? Still compliant? Still a willing victim.

And you were at the point where you didn't care what that said about you.

You were shaken from your thoughts as he came over to you, two plastic keycards in his hands. You caught yourself staring at him, and looked away. 

"We're on the top floor," he informed you quietly, one hand finding the small of your back so he could lead you out of the lobby. You would have protested the behavior-- you were almost sure-- if not for the fact that you were feeling extremely unlike yourself. You didn't have that usual fight in you. You felt tired, and you weren't sure why, or of what.

"I booked two separate rooms," Baekhyun said without looking at you as he pressed the button to summon the elevator. You nodded, then realized he couldn't see.

"Thank you," you said softly, and you looked down at your feet. The elevator  _dinged_ as the doors slid open. The two of you entered in silence.

Baekhyun carried a small duffel bag, filled with clothes he had purchased for you for the weekend at the local mall, despite your sincerest protests.  _I don't need that many things,_ you'd said.  _Put that back._

_But it would look so beautiful on you,_ he'd said, and that had been that.

It was a three hour drive from your Sehun's office to the nearest metropolitan area, where you were currently located. You'd been too offset by Baekhyun's tense grip on the wheel and terse silence to ask during the drive, but luckily he'd explained his motives for taking you so far away this weekend.

"I got you an interview," he'd said to you, abruptly, as you embarrassedly made your way around the delicates store. You'd looked up at him, a blush still firing in your cheeks from earlier, when the saleslady had accosted you and "your boyfriend" to take a look at the BDSM lingerie collection they had in the back of the store. 

"What?" You'd asked brilliantly.  _Total i_ _nterview material,_ you'd thought instantly. "Where?"

Baekhyun named one of the magazine companies you'd mentioned you were interested in-- way back when he'd first handed you the internship files. You couldn't believe he'd remembered. You dropped the t-shirt bra you'd been examining and, despite the million reasons why you shouldn't, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face in his chest. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said breathlessly, and tears started to well up in your eyes. You were halfway shocked by your own reaction, but the other half of you was too far gone to be surprised anymore. Embarrassed, you'd gone to pull back from him, but he'd reciprocated, hugging you in return and saying, mouth against your hair, "It's three PM on Saturday. Tomorrow."

You'd pulled away, wiping at your eyes and trying not to think about the fact that you could now cross "Crying in a Victoria's Secret" off of your imaginary bucket list. "Why did you tell me?" You'd asked, wide-eyed, t-shirt bra forgotten as you played with the frayed strap of the carrying bag in your hands. 

It was Baekhyun's turn to flush pink. He looked so warm and lovely when he blushed. You hated yourself for noticing it. "I didn't want to have to bribe you to come with me," he said, looking away from you. 

You’d found that odd. Your entire relationship was essentially a bribe, right? What would one more manipulation hurt, in his eyes? He'd forced you to date him in the first place, latching onto you and obsessing over the girl from Sehun's office.

The elevator _dinged_ once more, the glossed golden doors opening to reveal a plush, carpeted hallway and glittering chandeliers. Your eyes couldn’t take any of it in.

“This way.” Baekhyun gestured, leading you down the long corridor. You only stopped once you reached the end of the hall, finding him gesturing now at two doors, about fifteen feet apart. “That,” he pointed at the far one, the one on the very end of the hall, “is your room. The other is mine. There is a door that connects the two of them, which we can leave locked, if you'd like."

You didn't know what to say. You stared.

Baekhyun didn't seem to expect a response. He bustled ahead of you, unlocking your door and holding it open for you, ushering you inside. Almost robotically, you entered, brushing past him and feeling your skin crackle with imaginary static where you touched.  _Stop that,_ you thought at yourself. You made your way to the queen bed, sitting down on it for lack of anything else to do. You looked up, expecting Baekhyun to enter after you, but he was still by the door, which was ajar.

"I'll leave you to get settled in, okay?" The less you said-- the less fight you put up-- the more his tense demeanor from the office seemed to disappear, and the more concerned he seemed. "I'll be right in the other room. If you leave the door unlocked, I'll come in after I shower and tell you what I know about this interview."

You nodded. Baekhyun hovered by the door for a second, as if he were waiting for you to say something. You almost thought you saw him open his mouth to say something, but he shook his head, and then he was gone.

You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes.

* * *

Colorless.

The inside of your eyelids were colorless, as far as you could tell. You supposed it didn't really matter.

_What the fuck,_ you thought at yourself.  _There's something seriously wrong with you, you know._

Yeah, you did know. You weren't sure if you'd always been this way-- this much of an idiot-- or if the Baekhyun had changed you. Or maybe it wasn't Baekhyun at all. Maybe it was the abuse.

You just couldn't figure out what the hell you were doing. Fucking Sehun. Obeying Baekhyun. Why were you so complacent? Why were you so easy to use, so passive in your own life? Why were you so content to play the victim?

Was this a side effect of being abused? Maybe it was that you were so afraid to upset those you viewed as more powerful than you, that you let them do whatever they wanted.

You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes, feeling a little less like a robot in that moment and more like a gargantuan fucking loser. You were only in your first year of university. You had social anxiety, yes, and a fucked up home life, but seriously, was that any excuse for everything in your life right then? You knew the answer:  _no._ Especially not when you had a kind and sweet roommate who was more than willing to help you sort your life out. Especially not when you had a therapist who cared about you and a professor who, it seemed, genuinely wanted to protect you from your family. Maybe it was you. Maybe you just brought out the worst in Sehun and Baekhyun. Maybe your compliant nature begged them to take advantage of you. You didn't know.

Before you could drive yourself mad thinking about it, you heard the chirping of your phone going off. You considered not answering it for a second, but then you thought, _it might be Chanyeol, wondering where, exactly, I am._ You opened your eyes and sat up, slapping your hand onto your phone and then bringing it to your ear after hitting the accept button-- all without looking at the caller ID.

This left you significantly whiplashed when, expecting you hear Chanyeol's voice, you heard Sehun instead.

"Y/N?!" He asked wildly. A jolt of electricity ran through your body, and you sat up straighter. Your heart seemed to start beating again. Robot, no more. "Y/N?!"

You unclogged your throat to speak. Somehow, a lump had formed at the very sound of his voice. "Sehun." You said his name quietly, afraid, somehow, that Baekhyun would hear you through the walls and come barging in. You glanced over at the door that linked your two rooms, saw that it was locked, and relaxed a bit.

Sehun sighed into the line. "Jesus Christ, Y/N," he said, and he didn't elaborate on it. You didn't respond... biting at your lip, you thought about the look on his face as Baekhyun had called you his, as you'd let Baekhyun drag you from his office. It seemed stupid, your anger, now. He clearly hadn't been intending to call you a prostitute-- that's what had made you angry enough to go with Baekhyun in the first place, hadn't it? He'd just been worried about you. Caring about you. Like always.

And what had you done, but prance out of his office with Baekhyun and disappear to God-knows-where.

Tears stung in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you found yourself saying. "Oh my-- oh my God." What was wrong with you? You were asking yourself for the millionth time. "He-- He said he'd report you if I didn't-- if I didn't keep playing along. And I couldn't-- I couldn't just let him--" You were choking on your own words. "I couldn't just let him do that to you. You're all I have." The tears were falling, now, and your chest was heaving up and down. You were this close to another panic attack. You fought to keep yourself together. "You're all I have, so please don't be mad at me. Please don't be mad at me."

"Y/N." His voice was sharp. "You're with him now?"

You swallowed. "Not exactly," you said faintly. "We-- well, it's hard to explain."

"Try."

You swallowed again. "We're in the city. At a hotel."

Sehun was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was a growl. "Let me get this straight," he said roughly. "You're in the city, where you don't want to be, with Baekhyun, who you don't want to be with, and you'll be sleeping with him, even though you don't want to, because  _you don't want me to get reported?"_

He was clearly losing his constant composure. You thought back to when you'd first seen him, and how scary he'd seemed. But Sehun's anger wasn't scary to you. It was crushing.  _Fix this,_ you yelled at yourself.  _Fix what you've fucked up, god damn it!_

You opened your mouth to try, but what came out was, "I'm not sleeping with him."

You could hear Sehun exhale. "That's not what I meant," he said, his voice pinched. "I know you're not sleeping with him. You're--"

_Sleeping with you._

The two of you were silent again. You thought back to what he had said in his office.  _I'm in fucking love with you._ Your stomach twisted and roiled, and you wanted to throw up. All you could think was that when Baekhyun had asked you to break his heart, you hadn't intended to break Sehun's in the process.

"Y/N, you know I love you," Sehun said after a moment, his voice soft, gentle, all traces of the growl, vanished. "I love you. I love you, I've loved you for years, I love you more than you realize. I love you, and it's because I love you that I know you're kind and self-sacrificing to the point of martyrdom. It's who you are." He paused. You couldn't breathe. "But I am not your latest cause, and you will not be a martyr on my behalf."

You weren't trying to be a martyr. Your voice was faint. "Sehun--"

"You will not be a martyr on my behalf," he repeated firmly. Your stomach hurt, and you knew something terrible was coming. Then, he said, "So I'm giving you an ultimatum." This could not be happening. You never should have come clean about why you were with Baekhyun. Now he was going to--

"If you cannot manage to convince Baekhyun to let you go by the end of the weekend, I will report him, and myself." His voice was hard. "Then, you'll be free from both of us."

You were gasping for air. "Sehun--" You tried to beg, but the line was already dead.

_Now he was going to ruin everything._

* * *

Abyssal.

The panic was abyssal, never-ending—seeping into every pore of your being and winding its way into your bones, cracking into your organs and making a scream rise in your throat.

_No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening._

You caught your head in your hands, keeling over on your bad. He was going to turn himself in. He was going to turn himself in; he’d have to, there was no way you could convince Baekhyun to let you go. The boy might be slipping back into his charming façade, but you remembered how he’d been when you’d first been found out. You remembered how you’d ended up in this situation in the first place. It was Baekhyun who had started all of this. Not you. Not Sehun.

And now Sehun was going to turn himself in.

_No. Absolutely not._

You scrambled for your phone, hands shaking as you tapped out a message that read a little hysterical, even to you. You knew he wouldn’t respond if you called. So texting was your best bet.

_Sehun,_ it read. _Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. I know what you may think, but you’re wrong. I wanted it as much as you did, so please. I’m old enough to consent, and I did, every time. Please think this through._

_You mean too much to me for you to end it like this._

_Please, call me, and don’t do anything rash._

You felt a burning in your chest, and realized you weren’t breathing. You rectified the situation by frantically sucking in air. _Oh God. Oh God. This can’t be happening._

You shot up from your bed, suddenly unable to sit still for another second. You paced the room, half-crazed, checking your phone every ten seconds, knowing he wouldn’t respond but hoping against hope that he would. After a few minutes, you sent another text.

[Please, please. I need you in my life. Please don’t take yourself out of it like this.] – Y/N

And another.

[Please don’t do this. I love you.] – Y/N 

Your hands were still shaking. You gnawed at your lip anxiously, waiting for him to say something, but still he said nothing, nothing. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to cry. _Don’t jump to conclusions,_ you tried to tell yourself. _He may be busy. Maybe he put his phone away._

You shook your head, cursing at yourself. Why had you let it slip that _that_ was what Baekhyun was still holding over your head? You could have lied and said literally _anything else._ It was like you _wanted_ to put yourself in this situation. 

Before you could self-flagellate any more, your phone went off again. You jumped.

Heart racing, you looked wildly down at the screen, and let out a low, meaningful curse when you saw who it was. It was not Sehun, as you’d hoped. Nor was it Chanyeol.

It was your mother. 

“Fuck. _Fuck.”_ What did she want? You weren’t sure that you could talk to her without completely and entirely breaking down.

Still, you had no choice but to answer the call. Ignoring calls from your parents had only made things infinitely worse in the past. You knew better.

You brought the phone to your ear after swiping ‘accept’, your heart racing. “Y-Yes?”

Already, it was the wrong thing to say.

“Is that how you answer the phone now?” Your mother snapped. “‘Yes?’ Like you were raised by wolves?”

You felt one of your fists clench. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I meant to say, hello.”

Your mother scoffed. “How does one say ‘yes’ instead of ‘hello’?" 

_How does one nitpick every tiny thing their child does instead of loving them unconditionally?_ You supposed you both had your questions. 

You heard your father in the background. “Is she giving you attitude?” He asked. Your stomach clenched, just like your fist. Your eyes darted around your room, landing on the locked door that separated your room from Baekhyun’s. You remembered him saying he would come in after showering, and automatically, you went over to unlock it.

“Let me on the phone,” your father ordered your mother. “Put it on speaker.” 

Your mother must have obeyed, because soon, both of their voices were accosting you. “Where are you?” Your mother demanded, as your father asked, “Why are you in the city?”

Your heart flipped. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ You were so stupid. You _knew_ they tracked your phone. Why hadn’t you left it at your dorm with Chanyeol? Or come up with a lie, in case of a situation like this?

Your hand started shaking too much for you to hold the phone. You pressed the ‘speaker’ button and set it down on the hotel nightstand. You sat on your bed, curling into the fetal position, almost despite yourself. _Get it together, and lie,_ you told yourself, but no words would come.

“I…” Oh my God. Where had your voice gone?

“Are you with a boy?” Your father demanded, and you heard the sound of something slamming. You imagined him slamming his fist down on something, and tears sprang in your eyes again.

Just as this happened, there was a small knock on the door connecting your room to Baekhyun’s. Before you could process what was happening, the door was opening, just as your mother was saying, “We raised you better than this, Y/N,” in a cold voice.

As the phone was on speaker, Baekhyun could hear every word. You squeezed your eyes shut, and he paused in the doorway.

“Say something,” your father spat. “You’re with a boy, aren’t you? Being—being some miserable _slut,_ while you’re supposed to be fucking studying." 

“…’m not.” Your words were a whisper, but they must have reached your parents ears. You heard your father scoff.

“Then why are you in the city? Without letting us know that you were going?” He questioned. “If you’re going to be a sneak, at least do it _right.”_ He sounded disgusted. More tears escaped your eyes, and you curled in deeper against yourself. “And you want us to think you’re _smart_.”

“We _forbid_ you from dating, Y/N,” your mother snapped. “And you’ve gone against our wishes, like a whore. Well, if you want to go and get yourself knocked up, then—”

She kept talking, but you didn’t hear it. Baekhyun’s hand had brushed your arm, and your eyes opened, tears spilling freely. You sat up, not looking at him. You had never felt more pathetic in your life. There you were, getting berated by your parents—called a whore and a prostitute, getting told that you would get kicked out of your house with no financial aid if you got pregnant—right in front of him. _Him._

He leaned in. “Tell them you’re here for an interview,” was what he whispered. “And then tell them you will give me their number. I will call them, alright? It’ll be okay.”

You were almost numb. You didn’t even have it in you to nod. Your mother’s voice broke back through your consciousness.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” She said, her voice shrill. “I swear to God, this is just like you. You act like you’re so responsible and independent, but you’re just a gigantic fucking child. So do us all a favor and stop pretending. It’s exhausting. You’re exhausting.”

Baekhyun’s hand slid into yours and squeezed. Somehow, it gave you the strength to say, “I’m listening, mom, sorry,” in a relatively normal voice. You cleared your throat. “I just don’t know what to say. I feel really stupid right now—I wasn’t thinking about letting you know I’d left campus, I’m sorry. But I hope it’ll make you feel better to know that I’m not with a boy—I’m here for an interview for an internship.” 

_That_ seemed to shut them up for half a second.

Then: “You didn’t ask us if you could get an internship.” It was your father. You swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just thought—”

“See, that’s the problem,” he interrupted you. “You need to stop ‘just thinking.’ Because whenever _you_ think, you do something immeasurably stupid.”

You had to bury your face in Baekhyun’s shoulder to muffle your wail of pain. It _hurt_ to hear them talk to you like this, no matter if they’d always been this way or not. It was one thing to be abused and unaware of it. It was easier to bounce back, when you thought, _Oh, this is normal, this is okay, this is a fluke._ It was another thing entirely to be confronted with the terrible reality of being trapped in such a cycle.

Baekhyun kissed the top of your head. “Tell them to talk to me about it,” he said in your ear, quiet enough so they wouldn’t hear. “Blame it on me.”

You swallowed again. “Mom,” you said. “Dad. I’m really sorry. It’s just, my professor thought of me when he saw this opening—do you mind if I give him your number? I can have him call you and explain.” There was silence. “If you want.”

You heard your mother mutter something to your father, but you either were too distressed to process it, or she said it too quietly for the receiver to pick up. You forced yourself to pull back from Baekhyun. He let you.

Finally, your father sighed and said, “Let him call us.” You couldn’t untense your muscles, even though you felt that you should. “Which professor is this?” 

“M-My Korean professor,” you stammered. _The one I make out with on the daily._

Your mother made a noise of disdain. “The Korean class you’re failing?”

You felt something much like indignant rage flash in your veins at that. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’m not failing Korean.” You knew you probably shouldn’t be talking to them in such a way, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “I’m actually doing very well.” 

“Watch your tone,” your father said in warning. You flinched. There was more silence. 

“I’m going to hang up so I can call him and tell him to contact you, okay?” It was best you pretended he wasn’t sitting with you on a hotel bed.

Your father sighed again. “If that’s what you think best,” he said.

“We’re still disappointed in you, Y/N,” your mother said. Baekhyun squeezed your hand again, but you couldn’t look him in the eye. “You never should have left campus without telling us. You’re only ever allowed to go to Sehun’s, you know that.” There was a pause. “What does Sehun think of this all, huh? This internship?”

_He doesn’t know about it, because we’ve been too busy discussing the bizarre love triangle that has formed between him, me, and the professor you’re about to call._

“He thinks it’s a good idea,” you said slowly, lying. You didn’t think your parents would call him just to corroborate the story. And besides, Sehun was smart enough to lie on your behalf, right?

That seemed to somewhat placate your parents. Enough for them to let you hang up, at least. 

“Well,” your father said. “We’ll wait for the call. Try not to go anywhere else stupid while we’re waiting, alright?”

You tried to ignore the tears that still leaked from your eyes. “Alright,” you said, your voice a croak. “I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Sorry is bullshit,” your father said. He was always fond of saying that. “Don’t do anything else stupid.”

Then, he, just like Sehun, hung up on you.

You closed your eyes.

You heard and felt Baekhyun reach over your body to shut your phone off, making sure the call was cancelled before he spoke. Your heart started to pound. You were going to be sick.

“Y/N,” he said softly, and that was all it took for you to start sobbing.

You shook with sobs, tears fleeing the confines of your eyes as you threw yourself at him, as he wrapped his arms around you, shushing you, smoothing your hair back and telling you it was going to be alright.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he cooed gently, his hands smoothing circles on your back.

“I’m—I’m s-so s-s-sorry,” you choked into his chest. It was only then, as your hands touched bare skin, that you realized he was shirtless. Your eyes fluttered open, and yu pulled back immediately. 

He was, indeed, shirtless, with only black sweatpants on. If you hadn’t been so upset, you would have been flustered. As it stood, you just looked away. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you said again, and you sounded pathetic. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean for you to hear any of that.” God, what would he think of you? That you’d unlocked the door just so he could hear your parents berating you? That you wanted his pity? His attention? 

“Baby.” His voice was so soft. Your eyes met his. “Baby, please don’t say you’re sorry. Not when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

How could he say that? How could he say that when it was painfully obvious that you were just a human disaster? It was like your father had said. You were immeasurably stupid. Exhausting. A gigantic fucking child. 

This was all your fault.

Sehun, Baekhyun, your parents—it was all your fault, all of it. You hated yourself. You hated—

Baekhyun brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek gently. You inhaled. He leaned forward. Just when you thought he was going to say something, he leaned even closer, and his lips brushed yours.

“Baby, please,” he whispered. “You did nothing wrong. This is not your fault.” He knew what you were thinking. Before he kept speaking, he kissed you again, his lips lingering more, pressing harder, and your hands found his chest. “An eighteen year old girl should be free to date and go about as she pleases. She should be free to get an internship. To do whatever she wants.”

You shook your head. He didn’t understand. Not you. Your parents were right. You were too stupid for this, for any of this. That was why you were making a mess of Sehun and Baekhyun’s lives. You should have listened to them when they told you not to date. You should have said no to both of the boys, no matter what. This was all your fault.

“No, listen to me,” Baekhyun said. “Y/N, baby, listen to me. Your parents are wrong.” He didn’t know that. He didn’t know them. “Not only are they wrong, but they’re assholes. Abusive fucking assholes.”

You shook your head some more. “No, they—” 

“Do you want me to call Sehun right now?” Baekhyun asked. “Because I will. I’m sure he’ll tell you the same thing. What I just witnessed, Y/N, is abuse. It’s fucked up _abuse._ You are not exhausting. You are not stupid. You are not a slut or a whore or any of those things—and even if you were, a parent should never say that to their child, do you understand me?” 

“I deserve it.” Your voice was hollow.

An expression of pain spasmed over Baekhyun’s handsome face. “ _No,_ baby,” he said, his voice cracking, and he took both of your hands in his and squeezed. “Baby, no you don’t. You don’t.” He was kissing you again, like maybe that could make you understand. His lips did make a convincing argument. He kissed you like you were everything your parents hadn’t said—like you were worthy, and lovable, and brilliant and deserving. He kissed you like he needed you to understand that.

“Baek, I—” How could you explain it to him? That you were the cause of all of the bad things, not only in your life, but in your parents’, and Sehun’s, and his own? It was all you. _All. You._

“No, shut up,” he said, but it wasn’t in a cruel way, not at all. “Y/N, look at me.” You forced yourself to lock eyes with him. Tears slightly blurred your vision, and you tried to blink them away. “Y/N, I asked you to break my heart, but not like this, baby, please. I can’t bear to see you blame yourself for this. Break it in any other way. Not like this. I’ll die.” You wanted to argue melodramatics, but he looked dead serious. “You don’t deserve to be abused.” He almost sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe that you could think otherwise. “You deserve to be loved,” he said, his voice softer.

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure that you could.

Baekhyun pressed one last kiss to your lips. “I need to call your parents,” he said. “Can you send me their numbers? I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

You took the opportunity to look away from him, reaching for your phone to message him the contact information.

“Do you want me to call them in the other room?” He asked quietly as you sent him the contacts. You shook your head.

“There’s no need,” you said, and your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. “They’re always nice to strangers.”

“Just not their own child.” Baekhyun’s voice was filled with disgust, but it wasn’t for you. “Not their own beautiful, brilliant, amazing child. Right. Got it.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you stayed silent as Baekhyun pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and used the information you had sent him to call your parents. Your stomach clenched. Why was this happening to you? Were you truly that bad that God had to punish you like this?

You didn’t want Baekhyun to speak to your parents. You wanted to die. 

You must have missed the sound of him typing, and the dialtone, because the next thing you heard was him speaking.

“Is this Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N?” His voice was musical, professional. You hadn’t noticed just how soft his voice was when he was with you, until you heard him speak otherwise. You gnawed on your lip and tried not to shake. He slid his hand into yours again. 

_It’s okay,_ he mouthed. You wanted to believe him.

There was a low, aggressive rumbling on the other side of the line. You winced and hid your face against your shoulder, mortified. So much to always being nice to strangers. Baekhyun rubbed his thumb against your skin, soothingly.

“Yes.” His voice was calm. “Professor Byun. Although you may call me Baekhyun.” You didn’t want your parents to call him Baekhyun. With a rush of possessive anger, you found that you didn’t want your parents to call him anything. They didn’t deserve to have anything to do with him. 

There was more rumbling. Accusatory rumbling. You couldn’t hear your parents well enough to make out what they were saying, but you could definitely hear their tone of voice. And it was not the tone of voice one would be expected to take with a respected professor.

“Yes. Correct.” Baekhyun’s tone had not lost its calm, but it was a tad sharper now. Your breath caught in your lungs. If he yelled at them, would they yell back? You thought you would die on the spot. “Yes.”

What were they saying? You almost wanted to ask him to put it on speaker, but you were too afraid to make a sound. If your parents heard you—if they realized you were with him—you didn’t want to think about what would happen.

Baekhyun cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, and somehow, it sounded different than his other yeses. Sterner. “I got word of an internship that I thought would suit Y/N. So I contacted her accordingly.” More rumbling. “It is not a Korean internship.” His voice was getting testy. “Well, teaching her one subject does not stop me from seeing her as a whole, does it? Professors can tell which of their students are immeasurably brilliant.” 

_Immeasurably brilliant._ Did he really think that?

For half a second, your parents said nothing. Then, there was a snarky response. God, had they abandonded all sense of propriety? You were usually the only one they treated as less-than-perfect. Were they losing their grip on the façade?

Baekhyun laughed, but it was a humorless sound. “No, she’s not failing my class. Where would you get _that_ idea?” He was getting more and more combative. You imagined your parents, fuming, on the other side of the line. “She’s actually quite brilliant. As I said. She’s quite near the top of her class.”

The volume of your parents rumbling increased.

“Well, I hardly think it reasonable to expect a freshman to be at the top of _all_ of her classes. Do you?” His grip on your hand tightened. “Of course I’m not trying to teach you how to parent. Can you imagine the nerve?” You held your breath. _He’s about to say something terrible, I know it._ But he seemed to feel you clenching, and he toned it down. “I happen to find that Y/N puts in more effort than most graduate students I’ve seen.”

You could imagine what your parents were saying here. _I don’t care about the other students._ It would be your father saying this. It was his thing. _I only care about Y/N._

“Well, it happens to be my job to care about all of them, and I’m telling you, Y/N is gifted,” Baekhyun said mildly. You were right. Either you knew your parents too well, or they were completely predictable. “That’s why I thought of her, right away, when I heard of this opportunity.”

Rumbling. Rumbling. Rumbling. 

“I’m positive that Y/N is capable of handling the pressure of an internship on top of her schoolwork, but the point is moot,” he said. “The internship hours and schedule mostly overlap with her breaks exclusively. The spot was created for students at this university. As such, it reflects their break times.”

Did it really? Or was he lying, to placate your parents, who would no doubt think you incapable of managing both an internship and school?

“That won’t be a problem,” he said smoothly. What won’t be a problem? “The dorms remain open for interning students during breaks.”

That wasn’t true. You stared at him, wide-eyed. Had he just lied to your parents? And, more importantly, would they buy it?

The rumbling got softer.

“Well, that’s something you’ll have to discuss with her,” Baekhyun said. “But for what it’s worth, she did mention her excitement at being able to stay during breaks… she didn’t want to burden you financially by returning home every time she has off.” 

Softer. Then, he was saying, “Well, it was nice to meet you, too. I’m sure Y/N will keep you up-to-date as she goes through the application process. Thank you for your time.”

Without, it seemed, waiting for a response, Baekhyun took the phone away from his ear and then cancelled the call. He shut the phone with a _click,_ and threw the object away from the two of you, placing it on the nightstand. 

He turned to you. “Assholes,” he repeated, his voice normal again, not the stern, professional drawl he’d used while on the line. You were startled into a giggle. 

There was a _ding_ coming from the nightstand as your phone went off. Your heart twinged. It was either your parents, who you didn’t want to talk to, or Sehun, who you desperately wanted to talk to. It was a fifty-fifty chance. You picked up the device and clicked the home button. 

The text was waiting on your lockscreen.

[Just talked with your professor. He had some very nice things to say about you. Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t failing Korean?] – Mom 

You found yourself mumbling something rude under your breath at her. Baekhyun laughed, the sound cut off as your phone _dinged_ again.

Heart racing, you instinctively moved to hide the screen as soon as you saw the name. You jerked away from him, and he looked over at you in confusion. You opened your mouth to say something, but a dark understanding crossed his face.

“Sehun,” he said lowly, and he wasn’t asking. His eyes held a different light now. His entire demeanor changed. He seemed to have forgotten the other man completely.

You couldn’t lie to him. You nodded. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you glanced down at your phone. 

[I love you more. It doesn’t change anything. Be safe.] – Sehun

_Doesn’t change anything._

You closed your eyes. You heard Baekhyun rise from the bed, and you knew he was leaving to go back into his own room. Your hand flew out and caught his arm. 

“Stay,” you said, and your eyes opened in to his. “Please. Stay.”

His eyes were dark. He seemed unable to stop himself as he said, “I wanted to give you some privacy, so you could talk to your…” His lips curled. “Boyfriend.”

You tried to ignore how much his tone hurt. Hadn’t he just been holding you as he cried? Did he hate the thought of you and Sehun that much? 

“I’m not asking Sehun to say” was what you said, and your voice was stronger than you expected it to be, “and I didn’t leave his office to run away with _him._ I’m asking you. I left with _you_.”

He still didn’t move. You rose from your place on the bed, too, and slunk over to him, your hands finding his hips as you went onto your toes to kiss him. “Stay,” you said. “Please.” You kissed him again, softly, slowly. 

And that was all it took. 

Maybe it was magic that kept him with you, some sort of spell that convinced the boy to stay that night until midnight, talking, about anything and everything, but nothing important. Maybe it was magic that you opened yourself up to him in such a way.

Or, more likely, maybe it was the deadline you now had—you would, after all, one way or another, only be with him until the end of the weekend.

_Doesn’t change anything._

The only thing you could think, as you lie in bed that night, was that somehow, maybe, somewhere along the line, Baekhyun had grown to care about you, enough to intervene when your parents abused you. Enough to get jealous of Sehun. And that made things infinitely worse.

You closed your eyes.

_I will do what I have to do,_ you told yourself, _as I have always done. I will not let Sehun ruin his life over me. And,_ you thought, guilt churning in your stomach, _it isn’t like this isn’t what Baekhyun always wanted in the first place._

But you couldn’t convince yourself. You stayed awake, late, into the early hours of the morning, burning with the thought of breaking the heart of the second man who insisted that you deserved to be loved. You didn’t think you would be able to do it, had it not been necessary to protect the first. 

Sleep found you with your jaw clenched. The dreams that haunted your mind that night were not nightmares, nor fantasies. They were nothing. 

You welcomed it. You craved the blank space. The lack of pain. You fell into unconsciousness happily.

And, again, it was dark.


	16. Scar Will Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re still here good on you, y’all stan a traumatized icon who hasn’t updated in a year because she’s been ‘bout ready to die and seriously Going Thru It. I am quite sorry but also if you post hate towards me for taking so long I will chop off your fingers. Enjoy.

Something was jostling you. You were asleep, mostly, and warm; everything was soft and you had never felt so calm. You had been having a very good dream. It was all well and good, except someone's hand was on your shoulder, gently shaking you. You didn't want to be gently shaken.  
  
"Y/N." Their voice was gentle, too.   
  
"Mm." You didn't want to wake up. You tried to shake their hand off of you, nuzzling deeper into the mattress, ducking under the covers.   
  
There was a laugh. "Y/N, you have to get up," he said.   
  
Your eyes shot open. He.   
  
You jolted up, your head spinning as Baekhyun moved so you wouldn't slam into him. He was grinning.   
  
"You want to sleep through your interview?" He teased.   
  
You flung the covers off of your body, scrambling up, yanking your shorts down out of your ass as you ran into the bathroom. You could hear him laughing, saying, "You still have an hour! Don't kill yourself with panic.”

  
You vaguely heard yourself grumbling something back at him, but the fog in your brain was far too thick for you to process it. You shut the door and faced yourself, looking in the mirror like a deer in highlights before releasing a dramatic groan.   
  
"Why? Why, why, why?" Why did it look like you'd let a group of birds nest in your hair for six months?   
  
You flipped on the shower and went to head back out to grab your phone, but another look in the mirror stopped you dead in your tracks. You did not want Baekhyun to see you looking like this any more than he had already. You just wouldn't listen to music. No big deal. Whatever.   
  
You thought you heard the sound of a text tone as you stripped down out of your clothes. Your mind flashed to your parents first, then Sehun, then even Chanyeol and Yixing.   
  
You shoved the thought of the possible text out of your mind. Right now, there was absolutely no one you wanted to hear from.

* * *

You hated yourself. You genuinely, legitimately, absolutely hated yourself, and it was this truth you carried in your heart as you followed Baekhyun into the office room where your interview would be held.  
  
[Hey Y/N. I know you've got therapy tonight, but what do you say to a movie night afterwards? This guy in my math class has never seen Harry Potter and I'm forcing him to watch them with me.] - Chanyeol   
  
That was the text, presumably sent last night, that had only come in this morning. Several more followed.   
  
[Also, if you want to pick up chips before you come back I'll do your Korean homework for a week.] - Chanyeol   
  
[Y/N???] - Chanyeol   
  
[Are you running late or are you just ignoring me?] - Chanyeol   
  
[Or you're dead.] - Chanyeol   
  
[You better be dead because I'll kick your perky ass if you're with that guy again.] - Chanyeol   
  
Your heart seized in your chest. The last one was sent only an hour prior.   
  
[Seriously let me know if you're at least safe. I was joking but if you're actually dead I'll be really really sad. Call me ASAP you jackass.] - Chanyeol   
  
You'd checked your phone as soon as you got out of the shower. Baekhyun was gone, in his own room getting ready, so you sat in your towel for about ten minutes just contemplating how terrible a human being you had become. You typed several apologetic responses to Chanyeol, but each sounded more flimsy and pathetic than the last. He wasn't your mother, and it wasn't your fault that your phone was glitchy, but this wasn't an isolated incident, either. All you ever really seemed to do was crap out on or hurt the people who managed to care about you in favor of the ones who pushed you around like a dummy.   
  
_I’m sorry,_ you sent at last, and then you put your phone down to get dressed. There was really nothing more you could say.   
  
Now, you walked into the conference room, phone burning a hole in your back pocket like a cross on a sinner's neck. You tried to focus on anything, literally anything that was happening around you, but you just couldn't for the life of you. Baekhyun kept a professional distance from you, shaking hands with the businesswoman who had fetched the two of you from the lobby.   
  
"Y/N Y/L/N," you introduced yourself as she turned to you, shaking her hand as well, your voice crisp and clear. You weren't sure where any of it came from. You felt more qualified to curl up in a ball and roll yourself off a cliff than apply for this position.   
  
"Please take a seat," said the woman in response.   
  
You sat carefully in a chair across from Baekhyun. It occurred to you that you didn't even know her name. Either she assumed you'd done your research like you should've, or you'd missed her introduction entirely. Either way, it was strike 3000 for Y/N.

“So nice to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly. “And thank you for taking the time out of your schedule for this interview, it’s truly an honor.”

The woman only nodded, her face impassive as she shuffled papers, opening a file.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said sharply, in the tone that teachers use when you’ve done something wrong. Immediately, your back straightened. “It says here that you’re a scholarship student up at the university. May I ask your qualifications? Your transcript is impressive, of course, but it is quite a competitive school. What would you consider your ‘edge’ to be?”

 _My ‘edge’?_ You thought, your eyes wide. _I don’t even know what that means! My ‘edge’ is that I’m a complete and utter dumbass!_

“I was told that my essay was the most impressive part of my application,” you said automatically. Inside of yourself, you were shrieking non stop. You would have to thank whatever god that was currently possessing you after the interview for keeping you from sounding like a total idiot. You smiled again at the woman, trying to be more genuine, and continued, “Of course, I assume I was given a full ride for a wide variety of things, but I’m sure that was a large part of it.”

“And these ‘things’ would be your aforementioned grades?”

 _Uh…._ “Yes,” you said smoothly. “I did test out of a great majority of my foundations classes. Admissions noted that that’s exactly what they’ve been looking for: advanced students to take higher classes, so that they can get more out of their college experience. Actually, that’s what I wrote my essay on… the possibility that Gen Ed courses should be considered a detriment, not a requirement. It just doesn’t make sense for someone to learn Spanish if they want to be an astronomer, for example.”

The woman stared at you still. Did she blink? You genuinely wanted to know if she was capable of blinking.

“Yes,” she said, although you’re not sure what to. “I’m told you’re taking Korean classes with Professor Byun here?”

Your breathing hitched as you looked over at him. His face was composed, professional, but you’d almost forgotten he was there and for some reason his presence suddenly made you want to scream.

He nodded. “She’s my best student,” he said graciously. “As a part of the admissions board, I did actually get to read her piece. That’s why I recommended her. As you can see, I’m not a writing professor— in fact, I’m one of the few Gen Ed classes she does need to take.”

Baekhyun smiled, and your heart fluttered. He was so much more charming than you were, it wasn’t fair. Even the woman seemed dazzled. She gave a single blink before looking back down at her files.

“I see,” she said. “Gen Ed. Well, it’s nice to know that she has a cause.” You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be sarcastic or not. You were functioning on about a negative four out of five. If your brain had been moving any slower, it would have been going backwards.

“I’m very flexible,” you jumped in, trying to salvage what you were viewing as the most awkward, uncomfortable interview of all time. “I can find a way to be passionate about almost anything. I think that adds to my writing, especially in regards to journalism, because it comes across as genuine. Really, who’s going to want to read something if the author wouldn’t want to read it herself?”

That caught the woman’s attention. Finally, her eyes seemed to have some interest as she looked up at you.

“Yes,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a filler word anymore. She was genuinely agreeing with you. “That’s one of my own greatest philosophies. I used to work the position you’re applying for, you know,” she said. “It was a hard job, but a great one. We have a great program here, and there’s plenty of room to grow at our company. We like to set people up for strong, healthy careers. I know you’re quite young, Miss Y/L/N. Where do you think you’d like to be in ten years? Working as a reporter? Writing fiction?”

Shit. Fuck. You didn’t know. At the rate you were going, you’d be out of your mind by the time you were twenty-five.

“Honestly, I think it depends,” you decided to say, as you quite clearly could not give her a realistic response. “I think it’s a little too cocky for someone my age to think they know where they’ll be, what they’ll want, in a decade. Clearly, I’d like to work in a writing-related field. That’s where my talents would be most useful.” You took a deep breath and forced yourself to maintain eye contact. “That’s why a magazine like yours would be good for me. You’ve got such diverse content in every catalogue. I’ve been reading it since I was a little girl; I think that’s part of why I’m so well-rounded now. Of course, I’m still a student and I have a lot to learn, but I’d like to think that a place like this would be perfect for someone like me. I’m versatile. I can write whatever you ask me to, and I guess if this all works out, we’ll see together where that takes me in ten years.”

You held your breath. You weren’t sure if she was going to buy it or not, but after a hard moment of deliberating, she nodded, writing something down on your file.

“Alright,” she said, and to your surprise, she started to stand. “Thank you for your time.” Your stomach was sinking, but you clenched your jaw to keep yourself from crying in front of the woman. You couldn’t look at Baekhyun. The woman led the two of you back out of the conference room and into the lobby. You didn’t think she was going to say anything else, just shoo the two of you onto the street like unwanted dogs, but then she held out her hand for you to shake. “We’ll be contacting you with your hours, Y/N. Do you mind if I call you that?”

You found yourself shaking your head no, and then shaking her hand, and then shaking your head no again. Oh my God, you were going to shoot yourself.

“No, that’s perfectly fine,” you said, the words rushing out so quickly that you weren’t sure they were comprehensible. “Thank you so much—”

The woman withdrew her hand with a laugh, the sound of which seeming foreign coming from her type of character. “There’s no need to thank me. If you’re going to thank anyone, thank your professor, on behalf of both of us. I’m looking forward to having you on the team.”

Then, with a wave of coffee smell and a swish of conservative-length skirts, she turned on her heel and walked away.

* * *

 Baekhyun was ecstatic. You weren’t quite sure that you were capable of processing much of anything, but he was more than ready to process the good news for you.

“Y/N!” He laughed, grabbing you and swinging you around the second the two of you were out of sight. “You did it! You really did it! I knew you could. How are you feeling? Are you anxious? You did such a good job in there, but I know you get anxious so easily. I—”

“You sound like how having a heart attack feels,” you said, cutting him off. He faltered, unsure if that was meant to be a genuine insult until your face broke out into a grin and you threw yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him in the biggest hug imaginable.

“And you’ve had a good number of heart attacks, then?” Baekhyun nudged, his voice muffled as he went to kiss the top of your head.

You pulled back, still grinning. “Every time I get one of your papers back,” you said. He looked affronted, and you laughed at the look on his face, and then again when he contested the suggestion that he was a harsh grader.

“I’m perfectly reasonable,” he said as the two of you walked back to his car.

“Not the first word I’d use to describe you,” you said, and he unlocked your door for you, opening it like a perfect gentleman.

“What word would you use to describe me, then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, a cocky smile on his lips. His arms were caging you in between the car and his body as he rested one hand on the door and one on the roof.

“What would you use to describe _me?”_ You countered.

Despite the smile on your face and the great news and the part he’d had in all of it, a little part of you was still yelling at you not to be kind to him. He blackmailed Sehun and you. He’d kept secrets from Chanyeol. He was a self-entitled jerk with no consideration of other people’s feelings.

But as he looked at you with the loveliest expression on his face, he didn’t _look_ like a self-entitled jerk. He looked like he was in love with you. The sight caught you off guard, so you almost didn’t notice when he said leaned in and whispered, “Mine.”

His lips caught yours and you closed your eyes. The voice in your head shut up, and for a moment you let yourself just be happy. You let yourself imagine that he was your regular old boyfriend. You let yourself think that there was no need to break his heart, and you had no good reasons or obligations to hate him. You didn’t want to think about Sehun, so for the first time, you didn’t. You kissed Baekhyun back with more fervor than you thought you’d ever mustered before, and for a second, you felt great. Your entire body was alive with happiness. You weren’t thinking about yourself or how stupid you were or how much you wished you were invisible. Right then you knew you _weren’t_ invisible, and you didn’t want to be.

You could feel the kiss dying down. His hands found your cheeks so he could cup your face as he placed one last chaste kiss on your lips. He pulled back, smiling down at you, and you thought he looked like everything you had ever wanted. He’d called you his.

No one spoke as you both finally got into the car. He was still smiling, and you turned your face away so he wouldn’t see as you felt every good thing sinking out of you.

_If you cannot convince Baekhyun to let you go by the end of the weekend, I will report him, and myself._

You rested your head on the window, smiling faintly when Baekhyun asked if you were sleepy. Your heart constricted.

“Y/N,” Baekhyun said, cutting through your thoughts. You looked over at him, trying to keep the pain out of your eyes. “I’m proud of you,” he said.

You smiled again and then turned away before he could see you cry.

For the first time in a long time, you knew what you had to do. It was the only way— and wasn’t it what Baekhyun had wanted in the first place? You had the rest of the day and then the next. Then it would all be over. You wondered if he would still be proud of you when it was all said and done.

You thought to yourself then that you didn’t have one word to describe Baekhyun after all, only one to describe the both of you, whatever it was you shared, and the love you’d cultivated as the most terrible kind of experiment.

Doomed.


End file.
